


The Wait Is Long (My Dream Of You Does Not End)

by cucumbersandwitches



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anne is oblivious as always, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gil is angsty and pining for two years, Misunderstandings, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, a series of chance encounters, it just takes a while for the logs to catch, its already kindled, vaguely tied to the idea that they're soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 32,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21672436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cucumbersandwitches/pseuds/cucumbersandwitches
Summary: Wouldn’t the events of season three be solved much quicker if Gilbert and Anne had soul marks that literally spelt it out for them? Turns out, they wouldn't be Anne and Gilbert if they weren't oblivious and pining, and thus the slow burn continues.Following roughly along with the events of the latter half of season two and continuing through season three, Gilbert’s soul mark appears and he waits two long years for Anne to come to her senses.A bit of angst but mostly fluff.
Relationships: Diana Barry & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Sebastian "Bash" Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 88
Kudos: 566





	1. Prologue - An introduction to the saddest and most handsome boy in all of Avonlea and the struggles of teenage heartbreak.

_ “It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love. I hate love.”  _

_ Neil Gaiman _

Gilbert Blythe turned sixteen while sailing the vast Atlantic ocean, miles away from what once called home. All that tied him back to Avonlea were two letters. His father had written him one before he died, with instructions only for it to be read on his birthday. It was a weathered document and the edges were worn down after being tucked in his breast pocket, close to his heart, for months. But, as the warm light of the sun bounced off the cresting waves and he awoke to another day of strenuous labour, the young man slid his finger along the folded flap and read his father’s handwriting. It was jagged and inky, and Gilbert couldn’t help noticing the smudges that mirrored his own.

This day had been expected. Bash had begun his teasing as soon as he learned that Gilbert was still only fifteen. Any mention of the opposite gender would spiral onto the older man searching for the sentence that would make Blythe’s cheeks pink. He had found that any mention of a red-headed girl called Anne would do the trick. But today was a momentous day, and Bash couldn’t help but hold his tongue. Gilbert awoke to an ache bloomed in his stomach, fluttering up into his chest. He almost didn’t want to look. 

_ Dear son, _

_ It has been many years since I was your age, and although you may feel you are now fully grown, your whole life is still ahead of you. This day is something sacred and special, and I am deeply sorry that I cannot be there to help you decipher the words on your arm, just as my father helped me with mine. Hopefully, the girl will understand her’s before it is too late.  _

_ I loved your mother, there is no doubt about that. I still love her. However, her words weren’t mine. She realised promptly that my mark belonged to another, and that I knew who she was. But Marilla Cuthbert is a stubborn woman, and she wouldn’t give up on herself or her brother. I like to imagine she has had a fulfilling life, even without me. The introduction of that wonderful girl Anne has certainly helped.  _

_ Just know that you must fight for love. It does not come easy. And as much as one would like to think the marks help untangle things, I have discovered they only tighten the knots.  _

_ Your loving father,  _

_ John Blythe _

The letter was not the first thing Gilbert Blythe read that morning. On his arm were words he would never forget, even before he heard them aloud. Growing up in Avonlea where gossip spread like B.C wildfires in mid-August, Gilbert had always understood the concept of the marks. They appeared on one’s sixteenth birthday, virtually overnight, something that still puzzled him. From a scientific standpoint, they seemed magical. And that’s why, before he even read those words, before she even spoke them, he knew who they belonged to. It was rare, especially in small towns, to have already met your intended before the words appeared, yet she was special, and thus so was he. In Gilbert’s heart of hearts, he had known all along, since the moment she smacked him over the head with her slate, that he was going to marry Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. 

But, here he was, in the middle of the Atlantic on a boat that wouldn’t dock back in anywhere near Charlottetown for many months. He would never tell her either way. She was still only fourteen and he didn’t want to scare her away. He was afraid that she wouldn’t believe him and he would become just like his father. And although John had said he lived a happy life, Gilbert promised himself he would never settle for anything less than Anne. 

The letter was only one of many gifts Gilbert got for his birthday that year. Bash had managed to find a ripe mango and presented it tied with a ribbon. Gilbert, splitting it in two to share, had spent a good half an hour sucking out all the pulp and juice. The third arrived early, but he counted it just the same. Anne wrote a prose poem of a letter in reply to his own, waxing lines about gold, the border that was teaching her to bake, and the never-ending joy of school. Gilbert found only one word spelt wrong - stupendous.

The final present, gifted by Fate herself, was the sudden revelation that getting off at the next port, he would have enough money to pay for his and Bash’s trip back up to Charlottetown. They spent one riotous night in New York City on the way, in which Gilbert got drunk enough to momentarily forget about the fiery red braid he had tugged on before the memories overcame him worse than before. Bash, the ever-helpful friend he was, only laughed in the morning. 

‘You gotta learn to hold your liquor, Blythe. Half the bar from last night now knows about the torch you carry for your dear Anne.’

Gibert had a splitting headache and couldn’t find anything to say except repeating the phrase that he said whenever she was mentioned. 

‘She’s not  _ my  _ Anne.’ He grumbled, wincing through the pain. 

Bash just chuckled, giving a knowing nod instead of stating the obvious fact that there was now empirical evidence that showed that she belonged to him, and he to her. Gilbert, who was not totally oblivious, knew that they were meant for another, but in continuing his chivalrous attempt to be more open to Anne’s progressive views of equality, did not feel that Anne would want to be referred to as  _ his _ . And that was enough.

The trip to PEI left much to be desired. Bash was frustrated that Gilbert wouldn’t wise up and thus increased his remarks to an astounding number. Gilbert was annoyed at his friend, but also at himself and the realization that it was much more than the week-long trip to Charlottetown that kept them apart. It was many months, almost two years before her own mark would appear. Although Anne had the imagination, she did not have his ability for inner debate and self-realisation that helped him discover his own feelings quicker. Knowing and admiring Anne for what felt like a millennium, he understood her better than he would himself. She was stubborn. Love was something that must come naturally, through a mutual interest and evolved into courtship, a proposal and thus marriage. And maybe his father was right, that the knot doesn’t just untangle itself, but Gilbert Blythe would wait forever and a day for Anne Shirley Cuthbert. 

Gilbert does not remember how many times he read his father’s letter that day. It must have been a least a dozen by the time the sun set. His mind buzzed with the meaning of the words. Staring down at the marks scrawled on his forearm, he knew that now was the time to accept his life and his future. 

  
  


She remembers the day he returned like it was yesterday. How could she forget the way Gilbert looked at her like she was the only thing in the world. He hadn’t come back for the gold but for her. And, at that exact moment, she felt that she herself might have words that appear on someone else’s skin. 

Gilbert’s mark was the only subject the Avonlea school children entertained that day. They all knew that he was slightly older, having fallen behind from going to Alberta and now spending almost a year overseas. Anne put on an air of being disinterested. All the boys had gotten a peek at the inside of his forearm, and the words quickly spread to the girls until one lunch Anne couldn’t contain herself any longer. She disregarded propriety by asking to see the mark herself. It was common knowledge that one’s mark was only to be revealed to the other sex after an established courtship. Anne, later, would argue that at that point she did not see Gilbert Blythe as a possible suitor and thus reading the words she would later speak was not, as Josie put it, a way to snatch up the only eligible bachelor in all of Avonlea. It is safe to say that Josie insulted more than Anne did that day. In fact, Gilbert was flattered, if not a bit embarrassed, by Anne’s curiosity. 

It wasn't until her own birthday, that she was forced to admit that she may not dislike Gilbert Blythe as much as she once argued she had. And, Anne had to admit that her mark could have been worse, **_Carrots_** had always been a possibility. She should really be more thankful for the stars that aligned and made her finally realise that true love had always been right under her nose. 


	2. The tale of how Gilbert and Anne walk home together (with a little help from others)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert and Bash arrive in Canada to the beginning of a harsh winter.  
> Anne's curiosity gets the better of her.  
> Cole and Diana hatch a plan.

_"It isn't possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal."_

_—_ **_E.M. Forster_ ** _(_ **_A Room with a View_ ** _)_

The day was bitterly cold. Bash sat practically in the fireplace in order to warm himself after chopping wood in the frigid Canadian winter air. Gilbert was baking. The day they came back the news travelled fast, and before they could even unpack, Marilla had sent Anne over with a basket filled with preserves and crusty bread. She gave him a small smile as she handed the basket over, and confessed that it was nice to see him again in a voice that danced like the breeze. He couldn't get the image of her sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks out of his mind. He overworked the dough. 

‘Was that Anne I saw at the door?’ 

It was an unassuming phrase, but Bash said it with such a false, syrupy sweet tone of indifference that Gilbert clenched his jaw and nodded sharply before changing the subject.

‘Will you be okay looking after the farm when I go back to school soon? I can take more time off if you need it, it's just that…’

‘Oh, you moke. Go on to school. As smart as you are, we both know it's because of _her_.’ Bash did all he could to not smirk, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that compelled Gilbert to roll his eyes in the hopes of saving his own dignity. 

‘I don't do everything because of Anne.’

‘That implies that you be doing some things for her. And, I ain’t never said her name.’

 _God, he was good,_ Gilbert thought. Bash’s way of saying just the thing to trip him up was aggravating, it made him question himself more than he wished to. But he secretly was amazed at the easy way Bash could find the one thing that would leave him a stuttering mess. It was the same sort of feeling he got when Anne beat him at the spelling bee. Proud and disheartened, wishing that he could see her do it all over again, yet regretting ever thinking he had a chance. 

A week later, during lunchtime, while he was skimming through an advanced biology textbook, Gilbert’s heart thumped when he heard his name. He already had been hearing parts of the conversation the girls were having. Between them being sat in the corner closest to him and the stage whispering, it could be argued that it wasn’t eavesdropping if they wanted you to hear. Then, the soft thump of boots on wood alerted him to Anne's presence beside his desk. Glancing up, he wished he could have better prepared himself for what she asked for. 

As much as Anne loved and adored her friends, their infatuation with Gilbert and his mark was wearing down her patience. A desire for rebellion kindled inside her, much like it had done many times before. She made her choice. Ruby’s eyes widened as Anne got to her feet and made her way to Gilbert’s desk. 

‘May I see your mark?’

He took his chances and brought his gaze up off the page and onto her face. 

‘Um, sure,’ was all he could muster. His eyebrows raised as she stared pointedly at his arm. Slowly, while attempting to keep his breathing regular, he unbuttoned his cuff and began to fold it carefully up past his elbow. He was acutely aware of her eyes followed the movement of the cloth until the words were visible. She read them in amazement. 

Anne’s hand raised, fingers brushing the smooth skin, the pale inside of his forearm a contrast to the part tanned from the hot Caribbean sun. It tickled, and her fingers were cold. As if sensing his discomfort, Anne drew back her curious fingers and met his eyes. 

‘Do you know who it is?’ she asked brightly.

A lesser man, or perhaps a better man, would have told her. But Gilbert was hardly able to confess his feelings in such a nonchalant way. Unfortunately, he lied, and the muddle began.

‘No, not yet.’

His voice cracked. 

‘I hope she is all that you dream of. Oh, I do wish that I will have a mark. How utterly agonizing it is to wait. The days are becoming numbered now and I hope I will know immediately who he is. He will be tall and handsome,’ Anne said in a wistful voice. ‘He’ll heroically save me from a mystical dragon. Or at least from something more fitting with reality, like a… a big rain or snowstorm -’

Gilbert, unable to stand the tension that was building up, unknowingly to Anne, cleared his throat and interrupted her. Anne was captivated in her own mystical dream of destiny and was only pulled out when Gil shut his book. 

_Of course,_ Anne through to herself, _Gilbert would let her babble on and then stare as if she had something on her face. Oh, how infuriating he is._

‘I hope you meet her soon, Gilbert,’ she stated, putting on a brave face.

‘Thank you, Anne.’

And with that, she was called back to the group of girls that looked awestruck in the corner. Offering him one last glance over her shoulder, Gilbert for the first time felt that his heart might beat right out of his chest. 

  
  


For as long as they had been friends, Diana and Anne were inseparable on their walk home after school every day. That is until Cole arrived in Avonlea and Gilbert returned from his adventures, that’s when the trouble began. Cole did not always make it his mission to force people together, it only reinforced the heteronormative notions of marriage, but anyone with eyes could see that Anne and Gilbert needed to stop dancing around each other. Before Cole had even met the infamous Gibert with perfectly curly hair and bright hazel eyes, he had heard plenty from Anne and Diana. When Anne wasn’t listening, Diana would recount stories of unseen glances and romantic rivalry. And, now with a soul mark that strengthened their assumptions, a plan was born.

One day, a day like any other, Diana left early. Packing up her slate and books before the teacher asked, she had slipped out while Anne was apprehended by Gilbert who was in search of any notes that she had taken while he was away. So, when Anne put on her coat and glanced out to see if her bosom friend was waiting outside, all she saw was Gilbert Blythe tying his boots. His broadened figure uneased her. Anne silently hoped to herself that Diana would be outside to alleviate the awkwardness that had grown between them, but her wish was left unanswered

Anne sighed. 

Meeting his eye, she doesn’t know why she would have expected him to walk with her. But here Gilbert was, seeing her all alone, and only giving her a blank look before heading along the path home. His rudeness had always made her impulsive and without thinking, she ran after him. 

Holding her books to her chest, she quickened her legs and her braids bounced on her back. The thick snow prevented her from actually running, so she resorted to calling his name. He breathed a small mist when he turned around and opened his mouth, not quite finding words. 

‘Why are you following me?’

He didn’t want her to leave. But he didn’t want her getting close to him for both their sakes, it would be too much for his heart to handle. He hadn’t meant to say it so harshly, but the bitter chill in his voice made her shiver just as much as the winter air. Somehow the snow had found is way into her boots and her fingers were turning white as she clung the books to her chest. 

‘I - I didn’t mean…’ Her eyes dropped, her feet lifting up and down to keep them warm. Many harsh winters spent in hand me downs had made Gilbert sympathetic. 

‘My house is around the bend, you will catch your death if you stay outside without a scarf or hat.’

Anne felt her neck, realising that in her aggravation, she had forgotten everything except her coat and gloves. She was lucky that she hadn’t forgotten her schoolwork or she would actually have a reason to walk back to the schoolhouse. Anne simply nodded at his insinuation and followed him to the Blythe farm.

She had mesmerised the path long ago. She had spent the autumn picking the apples he should be picking, watering the flowers he should be tending, bringing baskets home to Marilla filled with crispy apples and sweet-smelling flowers she wished he was there to gift himself. All the time he was away she spent her time imagining where he was, and more specifically when he was coming back. She had made him promise to return someday, but for all she knew that could have been years. She wouldn’t be able to wait that long for anyone, let alone her class rival. She needed him. 

Not for her own selfish reasons, although there were many, but the longer he was gone the more trouble he could get into, the higher the risk of harm that could befall him. A bigger chance of her never seeing him again. And yes, maybe she was also afraid that she wouldn’t have her quick wit matched, or that she wouldn’t have someone to keep her fighting for the top spot. Secretly, deep down, she missed him terribly. 

She remembers the day her heart leapt at her name written in his smudged writing. At that moment, she had not allowed herself to feel happy because it was him, she hadn’t even said his name. She was getting worse at censoring herself, she often found his whole name would slip through her teeth before she could catch it and a blush of shame would creep up her cheeks. Diana only grinned when Anne brought him up as if it signified any more than what Anne was suggesting - he was simply a boy that had called her Carrots and was trying to make it up to her, his kindness could be explained in no other way. And, he was almost forgiven, especially after that letter. 

So, she sent one back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter - In which Gilbert shows Anne the importance of warm winter clothing and flirts along the way


	3. In which Gilbert shows Anne the importance of warm winter clothing and flirts along the way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana is surprised and Bash has a question.

**_“Charm is the ability to insult people without offending them”_ **

**_―_ ** **_Nassim Nicholas Taleb_ **

And just like Anne, Bash relied upon Gilbert. He needed him to show how to fix a fence that was cursed to never stand upright again. One beam went up, the other fell. Either he couldn’t find the nails or he couldn’t find the hammer. The snow clumped in his eyelashes and soaked the bottom of his trousers. As soon as he had the nails positioned, the hammer slipped from his gloved hand and landed on his toe. Gilbert walked in to find him sitting in front of the fire pilling snow onto his foot and getting mad when it melted. 

Gilbert quirked his eyebrows at Bash’s shenanigans. Bash quickly got to his feet when Anne followed Gil inside, and forgetting the bruised foot, winced and fell back into his chair. 

‘It’s like he’s never encountered the ideas of hot and cold.’ Gilbert muttered to himself before motioning for Anne to sit down in front of the fire across from Bash (and his possibly broken toe). 

‘You must be the Anne Gilbert never stops talking ‘bout.’ Bash asked with a cheeky grin in Gil’s direction. 

Bash half expected her to pale, or a blush to flush her cheeks pink. But she only smiled and set her shoulders and replied courteously, and with growing concern for his hurt foot, ‘And you must be Sebastian.’

‘You need to get out of those soaked stockings.’ Gilbert interrupted. 

He had disappeared and returned with a footstool and wool socks. Both looked up. He became flustered by Anne’s face still rosy from the cold staring open and warm up at him before she took the socks and busied herself with the action of stripping down her own damp ones. Gilbert graciously looked away, only catching a short glimpse of her pale calf before averting his gaze and fetching the kettle from where it was hanging atop the flame. Bash propped his legs up in the stool looking like a cat who got the cream and Gilbert shot him a look of warning which he purposefully ignored. 

‘So - Anne,’ Sebastian said her name in such a way that made her feel infinitely special,’I need a know bout when you first met Blythe. From what dis moke told me, he doesn't give a good first impression.’

Anne’s expression flashed with the same hatred she felt in the moment the slate shattered over the boys head. Then it calmed into regret and guilt just as it had over a year ago. Gilbert was still facing the other way, occupying himself with the task of preparing tea, and thus Anne felt comfortable enough to after a deep breath, tell her tale. 

‘Tell me Bash, what would you do if the boy you were told to avoid at all costs yanked ungentlemanly upon your braid and called you insulting names?’

Gilbert stilled, placing the kettle gently down. Suddenly, with a tremble that shot up his spine and made his brain fuzzy, there was hope. 

‘I never knew.’ he commented without turning around. Like earlier in the snowy landscape, he knew that he had to draw a line in the sand. He relied on the rules he had internally set out. And as a result, he was forced to keep his distance, every moment in her presence was intoxicating and threatened to destroy the one thing keeping him stable. 

‘I never knew that it was something else that made you ignore me.’ he repeated out loud, now facing her. 

‘Someone.’ Anne clarified. ‘Ruby to be specific. She has dibs.’

‘Dibs’ Bash chuckled.  _ What fools they are,  _ he thought to himself _. How much they still have to grow.  _

_ ‘I’m sorry, Gilbert.’ _

It what she should have said, and not left the truth hanging in the air. Dangling, taunting. She wanted to rip it away, but it evaded her grasp when she noticed Gilbert’s expression of regret and shame etched into the crinkles of his brow. The light of the fire glowed, flashing flames the colour of Anne’s reddish hair. Gilbert couldn’t quite trust his voice, as if once he started speaking he wouldn’t stop. 

‘It’s getting late. Marilla will, um, she’ll worry.’ Anne collected her things in a hast, ‘I need to go. It was nice to meet you Bash.’

Gilbert moved to open the door for her, but Anne was already stepping out into the winter desert, coat clutched tight. He hesitated for half a second before he grabbed his favourite scarf and chased after her. His still booted feet stumbled and her name echoed through the trees as her figure became visible. 

‘Hey! Carrots!’ 

She ignored him. His incessant teasing continued.

‘Come on, Anne, was that truce for nothing?’ 

It was this that made her decrease her fast pace. The memory of that day in Charlottetown flooded her mind.  _ Anyway _ . She squinted her eyes tight as if that action could remove the image of his hazel eyes searching her soul and the warmth of his hand in hers. The crunch of Gilbert’s footsteps neared. He walked around to face her, she was frozen in place.  _ With I look of nothing but pity,  _ Anne concluded, he undid the long knitted scarf from his own neck and wrapped it around hers. She defied looking at him. 

‘Get home safe.’ he said in a low voice. 

They both walked home with a heavy heart and a bitter taste in their mouths. 

Gilbert enjoyed the bitter chill of winter. As he sat out on the front porch watching the sunset past the evergreen trees, it provided a comforting familiarity. He pondered that sometimes it’s nice to feel the frozen chill in your fingers and toes. It reminds one of your own innate humanity. The blanket of pure white snow is not as dangerous as the dark, but the reflection of the bright moon gives it a supernatural glow. Gilbert has found, that the colder it gets, the less you feel it. It can only get so frozen, any more is redundant. In fact, if it gets cold enough, it simply burns away its own sensation. 

This is why he sat, alone, shivering as a gust of wind ruffled his hair. Outwardly, he’s stoic, bracing against the cold. Yet, inside, his thoughts ran in wild, uncontrollable circles. After all his time away, on adventures he could never articulate into words, he had long forgotten why he left. It was not just the death of his father, Avonlea had become stifling. 

The one thing that was keeping him grounded was also the cause of his distress. Anne. The worlds engraved on his arm had solidified in his mind her great importance to him. Yet… the idea that the words where hers was slipping into doubt. She was distant, and the truce they had agreed upon was fracturing. She still ignores his presence and brushed off his attention. 

This should be helping his predicament. He hadn’t wanted to make any sort of move on her, and that was exactly what was happening. However, Gilbert couldn’t help wanting a sign that the premonition that his mark was hers is true. His patience was wearing thin. 

Gilbert let out a shaky breath in an effort to quench the tears forming. He still had two years until Anne’s birthday, or at least until she said the words he traced every morning and every night. 

Diana’s legs bounced as she watched to door, waiting for Anne’s burst of exuberance to come crashing into the schoolroom. She was expecting something not entirely positive, mostly denial and frustration, but what actually happened the day before and the effects that followed could not have been predicted or planned. Anne bearly made it to lunch before she pulled Diana outside and past the boys playing catch. 

‘Diana, I don’t know what to do.’

Anne’s dam burst as soon as they were out of earshot, the low shouts of the boys drowned out the quiver in her voice. Diana suppressed a smile and substituted it for a look of worry. 

‘Is this about yesterday after school? I’m so sorry, I had to race home, mother needed me to come to town with her for a dress fitting. I should have told you, how abandoned you must have felt!’

‘Well, Gilbert was still there.’ Anne half-joked in reply. 

It took Diana a minute for her expression to mould to the appropriate response. Cole had reminded her to not reveal anything, but she was finding it harder than when she had practised earlier. It was hard to lie to a kindred spirit. Fortunately, Anne was hardly in a state to notice. 

‘‘We walked all the way to his house in a horrible silence.’ Anne muttered to herself as if she had not quite grasped the idea herself. 

‘Wait, you went to his house?’ Diana asked in genuine surprise. She had simply expected Gil to walk her home. He was known to stay back to ask the teacher questions now that he needed to catch up, and purposefully leaving quickly had left Anne without a walking companion. But inviting her to his house! Diana could only dream. 

‘It was cold. I-I forgot my scarf.’ Anne stated as if that was clarification enough. ‘It was really quite condescending the way he pointed it out as if I was dumb enough to bear the winter without one. He should be the one forgetting his scarf, after being in the West Indies for months.’ 

‘You went to his house?’

‘Yes, Diana,’ Anne groaned before switching to a whistful tone, ’he has a friend staying with him. I have never met a man with such beautifully dark skin. Oh, how much of the world he much have seen.’

‘How interesting, but going back to the part where Gilbert invited you to his house-’

‘Oh, Diana, please don’t tell anyone. Ruby must never know, she will think that I purposefully forgot my scarf so I could gain his pity!’

‘So did you stay for tea? Or did he walk you home?’

‘I left before that.’

‘You just left? Suddenly?’ It sounded like something Anne would do when in close quarters with Gilbert. If tensions got high enough, Diana would bet that Anne would leave if she could. Still, imagination and reality are two separate narratives. 

Anne paused. ‘Not exactly… he ran after me and gave me a scarf.’ Anne burrowed her hands further into her pockets and darted her eyes around, catching on a mop of curly hair. Diana’s gaze followed. 

‘Have you given it back?’

‘Huh?’

‘The scarf. That he gave you.’

Anne turned her back to the boy they had been watching

She fingered the warm marron coloured scarf draped around her neck, felt the scratchy wool work between her fingers. Diana let out a small sigh. But before Diana could say something, Anne unwrapped the wonderfully knitted scarf and held it in front of her in both her hands. Lifting her head high, she stalked off towards where the boys were playing. Diana simply watched in amazement. 

‘Gilbert!’ 

He whipped around, a flush on his cheeks and a smile stretching across his features. 

‘Anne?’ 

‘I'm here to return your scarf. I no longer need it.’

In one stiff motion, Anne held it out and Gilbert grabbed it with a gloved hand.  The enduring grin on his face was smug and Anne set her jaw before she turned back to Diana who was trying hard not to giggle.  _ They were really too oblivious it hardly seemed possible.  _

‘You seem to be forgetting something!’ he called after her. 

She paused, her feet planted firmly in the snow but her head cocked over her shoulder, arms crossed. After the confusing moment yesterday evening, Anne was having conflicted feelings about Gilbert. The only way she knew how to treat him was with spite and anger. 

‘What it is this time Gilbert Blythe? Gonna tug on my braid again to get my attention? I think we all remember how that worked out.’ Wolf whistles erupted through the group of boys who were waiting to see Gilbert taken down a peg. 

‘I just don’t want you catching a chill.’ She turned all the way around to see him walking towards her. He gently wrapped the knitted material around her neck. She refused to meet his eyes.

She stalked off and dragged Diana with her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter - bash and gilbert come to Christmas dinner


	4. A reflection on a special Christmas moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert and Anne ponder a shared moment and a gift that smooths the path towards friendship.   
> Just a little reflective prose for the holiday season.

_ “Lovers meander in prose and rhyme, _

_ trying to say- _

_ for the thousandth time- _

_ what's easier done than said.” _

―  **Piet Hein**

The flurries of snow swirled in majestic clumps, dancing their way down to rest on the tips of the trees. Anne sat resting on her windowsill gazing and enjoying the winter scene, attempting, and ultimately failing, to keep her mind occupied. Rereading  _ Jane Eyre _ had not helped, and Marilla had put her foot down about buying anything new in the lead up to Christmas. Anne was thus left with nothing but her imagination to keep her company. However, it kept straying. First, Princess Cordelia’s castle kept morphing into a familiar farmhouse, then the mysterious stranger became less and less mysterious as his features delved into the realm of reality. The more she tried to shift his dark curls into a less recognizable texture the more frustrated she became. 

Gilbert was coming to dinner and she was not going to acknowledge his existence until she had to. Her agitation was becoming unfounded but she was not going to ever admit such a thing to him. He’ll never have the satisfaction of her admitting her faults, no matter the supposed truce. Whatever front Gilbert may put up, it was hardly deceptive. Anne still saw him as the boy who yanked on her hair in a pitiful attempt to gain her attention, nothing more and nothing less. 

Anne’s normal excitement was slipping downhill into dread. She was going to prove that Gilbert Blythe had no effect on her.  _ Best foot forward, _ she reminded herself, _ don’t you dare show any emotion except happiness. If he takes the high road, you will take the higher one. _ She straightened her ribbon as she saw them walking up the path. 

Gilbert and Bash arrived in their best suits, perfectly on time, much to Anne’s dismay. She had secretly hoped for a ragged Gilbert, hair tousled and waistcoat undid, bursting through the door. In this recurring dream, there would be snowflakes trapped in his hair and books in his hand. Internally, she chided herself and was snapped out of her imagination. Anne smoothed her dress once last time and tucked her short, wispy hair behind her ear. 

He stood up as soon as she entered his line of sight. 

It was hard for many in Avonlea to admit that Anne was beautiful. Perhaps she was not pretty like the other girls, with ringlets tied with ribbons and a natural blush, but she had an air about her. An air that made Gilbert’s heart overflow with admiration. It wasn’t the puffed sleeves or even her fiery hair that was melting into auburn. It was the way she spoke, the smile that took over her whole face and the entire room. Her captivating use of language to describe the most intricate things that rivalled the greatest poets. He was finding hard not to admit that she was his whole world. 

Once the Cuthberts and Sebastian moved into the dining room, Gilbert decided that it was now or never. Last night, as Bash pressed their dress shirts, Gilbert took his father’s pen and wrote out eight simple words.  _ So you can beat me fair and square.  _ It was wrapped carefully, and Anne placed it under the tree with equal care. As they blew out candles, there seemed to be a glimmer of affection, but the teasing of his words suggested a good-natured rivalry. 

Anne had told herself to fake enjoyment, but that mask slipped and was replaced by true joy. The Cuthberts loved and accepted her, she had found a wonderful new kindred spirit in Bash, and Gilbert wasn’t as much of a nuisance as she first expected. They didn’t sit next to or across from each other so she felt no need to awkwardly ignore him. And, when their eyelines did catch, there was a spark that was not of hatred but of mutual respect and merriment. The festive season slowly eroded away her prejudices and hatred, until all that was left was a full stomach and a thawed heart. 

That night, while the house was as quiet as a mouse, she tiptoed down the stairs with a candle in hand. Beneath the Christmas tree strung up with baubles and strings of popped corn and cranberries, was a neat little package tied with a ribbon. The ribbon slipped undone and the wrapping followed. In the still of the night, her fingers traced the indents in the red cover before flipping through the pages, stopping on the one written upon. She let out a breathy chuckle at the words. She expected nothing less. 

Gilbert lay in his bed awake most of the night. When he was younger, it was the excitement of the presents that awaited him under the tree that kept him restless, this time it was the way he could count each and every freckle that dotted Anne Shirley’-Cuthbert’s face. With only a candle between them, lips parted, Gilbert had felt the urge to lean in. Her grey-blue eyes bore into his, bright and shimmering. That moment hung between them, a veil that could have been lifted to reveal the truth. The truth that all this time, from the moment he saw her, his feelings had swelled into something close to love. But, instead, he retreated, used the wrapped gift as an excuse, and went back to his former unstable status as a friend. Or at least he hoped they were friends. Their relationship had been so turbulent, but the reveal of Ruby and the soul mark was clearing the air. 

He rolled onto his side, feeling the cold of the pillow press against his cheek, soothing the flush. From this point, he could see the hints of morning coming through the window. The faint light, the whistling bird sounds. With a sigh, he sat up, running his hands through his dishevelled hair, before facing the new day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter - The ballad of Anne Shirley and why she wants to punch both Billy Andrews and Gilbert Blythe in the face


	5. The ballad of Anne Shirley and why she wants to punch both Billy Andrews and Gilbert Blythe in the face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert defends Anne but she's not having it.

  


**_“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.”_ **

**_―_ ** **_Markus Zusak The Book Thief_ ** [ **__** ](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/878368)

**_  
_ **

The harsh winter had melted into a mellow spring and the flowers were beginning to cautiously poke their heads up through the rich island soil. Anne was enjoying every moment that nature gave her. And her friendship with Gilbert was growing strong, like the blooms of the Snow Queen, yet their path was paved with bumps in the road. 

‘You could have gotten hurt, Anne!’ 

‘So could you!’

That is where the new teacher Miss Stacey found Anne and Gilbert, arguing as always. (Billy was there too, nursing a nose that was not broken but that he treated as such).

‘You think I didn’t take that into consideration? I will never underestimate your intelligence, but Billy is taller, heavier and stronger than you.’ 

‘You must think highly of yourself, Gilbert Blythe, to take on such stiff competition.’ 

He scoffed in response, making her blood boil in aggravation. 

  


_ Earlier, Anne had been minding her own business, head in the clouds, slowly packing away her books and writing equipment while the rest of the class ran outside to enjoy the newly returned sunshine. Billy who watched her with a smirk from across the room, purposefully and without an acceptable motive other than blind prejudice, knocked her desk as he passed by in hopes of spilling the pot of ink. Yet, Billy’s plan had one fault, that instead of ruining Anne’s dress, he ruined his trousers and waistcoat as it sprayed in his direction instead. Billy was known to lose his temper quickly and this time he immediately snapped; _

_ ‘You ruined my best waistcoat, you wretched orphan.’ _

_ ‘You shouldn’t have worn it to school then, or bumped my table.’ Anne countered as she rose to her feet and gathered up her courage. Her hands settled around the edges of her slate still perched on the edge of her desk. As if sensing her weapon of defence, he scoffed.  _

_ ‘Go ahead, Carrots. It may work on my bud Blythe but…’  _

_ ‘I am not your bud!’ Gilbert declared as he yanked Billy by the collar and slammed him into the desk opposite with a grin of determination. ‘Leave Anne alone.’ _

_ ‘Is this your knight in shining armour?’ Billy asked Anne with a smirk. He hardly had time to react before Gilbert landed a punch square on his nose which sent him reeling. However, before Gil could hit him again, Billy pushed him down to the floor, narrowly missing the scalding furnace. He had Gilbert pinned down in seconds, landing hit after hit, splitting Gilbert’s lip and eyebrow as the young man wriggled beneath Billy’s form.  _

_ Gilbert could taste the metal in his blood as his body convulsed. His forearms pressed into Billy’s chest, but to no avail. His head was spinning and the punches only winded him further. Anne had been staring stunned, petrified to the spot in fear. A drop of Gilbert’s blood rolled off his eyebrow and landed, heavy and thick, on the wooden floor. She gripped her slate, and could hardly feel her legs moving her across the aisle. She brought it down on Billy’s head. This time, it shattered completely. All that was left was the wooden frame as Billy rolled off, clutching his nose which was still bleeding from Gilbert’s first hit.  _

_ It was a miracle Gil didn’t suffer more injuries, but not that Anne saved him. There was nothing miraculous in Anne slamming a slate over a boys head. He was simply thankful he wasn’t on the receiving end this time.  _

  


‘Well, I didn’t need your help.’ 

‘He was on top of you, Gilbert. Who knows what would have happened if I didn’t hit him.’

‘Well, now I guess I’m no longer the only man you’ve cracked a slate over the head of.’

‘Man?’ Anne asked with a sarcastic huff. ‘Is that what we’re calling stupid boys who beat people up? How are you going to explain this to Bash?’

She hadn’t meant to be so harsh. She was feeling something resembling a fear of Gilbert getting hurt and what could be read as anger. She was scared and didn’t know what to do, so she became defensive. 

Her fingers impulsively touched the cut on his lip. It was deep and red like the tulip buds coming into bloom in Marilla’s flower beds. She other hand skimmed his chest as it moved to yank his handkerchief out of his breast pocket. He winced as she dabbed at the blood and bit her lip in empathy and concentration. 

Miss Stacey who had been reprimanding Billy, turned to Gilbert with a very forced look of disapproval. ‘I understand that Billy has a quick temper and antagonised you, but instigating a physical fight due to childish teasing is not what I expected of you, Gilbert Blythe.’

Gilbert bowed his head in shame. Anne had lowered her hands and was now holding them behind her back next to him, waiting for miss Stacey’s chastising to turn to her. 

‘And Anne,’ the young woman looked up at a teacher she wished so hard to please, ‘Must every young man be christened with a slate to the head?’

Miss Stacey’s attention and approval was all that Anne wanted since the day she first heard of a female teacher wearing trousers and riding a motorised bike. After the first day where she completely embarrassed herself, she had tried desperately to remake the relationship. She was learning that first impressions were not her strong suit. But, just like with Gilbert, she had salvaged what she could. Now she hoped she was friends with both of them. 

‘I’m sorry miss Stacey, but he...’

‘Anne, no buts.’ It was taking all of Miss Stacey’s strength to maintain her professionalism and not give her favourite students leniency. 

‘I’m going to deal further with Billy Andrews. I want you two to clean up all the spilt ink before lunch is over.’ She gave them both pointed looks before she exited the schoolroom. Anne and Gilbert both released the tension from their bodies, allowing their shoders to sag and arms to unstiffen. 

They performed their task silently and efficiently. On their hands and knees, scrubbing all through recess, they hardly glanced at each other. Perhaps it was the horrific experienced they shared that had left them shaken or the smooth feel of Gilbert’s lips under Anne’s finger that made both their brain’s fuzzy. 

Ever since his birthday, Gilbert had been on edge. Every day that passed was just one more day that she didn’t say the words that he was dying to hear. He hung onto her every word, waiting for her lips to form the consonants and vowels that professed a meaning far beyond their simplicity. Every day that passed, every word she said, was just one more towards a moment that his heart had been yearning for. He doesn’t know what it has to do with a pen, or why him returning it would be indicative of love, but it is something to grasp onto. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter - Anne admits Gilbert was right  
> OR  
> Gilbert admits Anne was right


	6. In which Gilbert admits Anne was right (more than once)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne and Gilbert finally have a civil conversation.  
> Good for them. Let's see if it will last.

_  
“The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.”  
_

_John Green, Looking for Alaska_   


Gilbert, through lessons about fractions and the medieval treatments of the Black Death, had plenty of time to come up with a plan. So, as the class was dismissed at the end of the day, Gilbert made his way to Anne and Diana chatting in the coatroom. He cleared his throat but Anne had already caught his eye and paused speaking. 

‘I was wondering if I could walk you home.’ He asked all of a sudden, albeit cautiously. 

‘And why is that?’ Anne challenged. Diana, sensing a repeat of a well known moment, moved her hand to her friend’s shoulder to caution restraint. 

‘Must I have a reason?’ Gilbert replied, attempting a calm disposition. 

Diana noticed their obvious ignorance of her presence and slipped out the door. ‘Go ahead without me Anne, I’ll walk with Ruby.’ 

‘But Ruby lives in the opposite direction…’ 

But she had already gone. Anne spun back around to face Gilbert again with a glare. 

‘I don’t need you to walk me home.’ 

‘I just want to make sure Billy doesn’t try to hurt you again.’ Gilbert leaned against the door frame as if projecting a cool reserve he most defiantly did not have. Anne only noticed that the action blocked her exit and it frustrated her more. Anne sighed. Of course, that was why. It was not her company he desired, but a chance to prove his chivalry. 

‘I don’t need you to slay dragons for me, Gilbert. I’ll be fine on my own.’ She pushed past him, her elbows angled outwards purposely. Gibert followed close behind.

‘Fine, not for protection then. Are we not friends, isn’t that enough? And anyway, two is better than one, you did save me earlier.’

‘So you admit it’ Anne paused at the bottom of the steps, waiting for the words she knew would be worth the wait. 

‘I hope you think of me the same way-’

‘What way?’ Anne whipped her head to face him, her cheeks red and her posture defensive. She looked like cornered prey. Gilbert took a step back. 

‘As friends…’ 

‘Oh.’ 

Gilbert smirked. ‘I will admit that you saved me from Billy’s surprisingly weak right hook.’

It was Anne’s turn to grin. Gilbert had never before been so affected by another’s smile. It not only served as a prize for his perseverance towards peace, but it shone like the moon on a clear night. Now side by side, their shoes scuffing as they walked, spring seemed to bloom just for them. 

‘I’m really sorry how selfish I was when your father died. You are right, I should not have been about me. I shouldn’t have said that your father dying was lucky.’

It comes out of nowhere, a blip of sudden empathy and honesty and it takes Gilbert longer than normal to collect his thoughts into words. 

‘Did Anne Shirley-Cuthbert just admit that I was right?’ 

Anne didn’t laugh that time.

‘I accept your apology, Anne,’ Gilbert conceded, ‘Although I don’t think it needed to be said. I was-  _ I am _ lucky. I had fifteen years with a father who loved me, and now I have a new family in Bash. Just like how you have the Cuthberts.’ 

Anne smiled, still looking ahead. Her ongoing collection of flowers was growing, with bunches of daffodils shoved in the pocket of her unbuttoned wool coat.

‘I’m glad, Gilbert. I’m glad your back.’

It was earnest, he could feel it. Honesty has an effect lies never could. 

Gilbert stooped to pick up a daisy and tucked it into his buttonhole. She grinned even bigger. Anne often found it hard not to be happy. There were moments when her joy radiated out of the smile she couldn’t wipe off her face. The wonder of the moment was transient, so she absorbed every second of the wind in her hair, the sound of Gilbert’s laugh, the smell of fresh pollen in the air. She spun, hypnotised by the blue of the sky that blended with the green canopy of trees. It was perfect and all-encompassing. 

It felt like what the great romance novels described love as. Gilbert could feel it tingle from his fingers to his toes, dance around in the corners of his brain. He walked through the doors of his farmhouse a happy man, completely forgetting the crusted blood on his brow. He was quickly reminded not by the throbbing ache in his temples, but by Bash’s reaction. 

‘Blythe! What in the damned hell happened to you your face?’ Bash commented in suprise upon looking at Gilbert as he walked up to the house. Gilbert brought his hand up to brush his eyebrow, it stung harshly and rung in his head while Bash fetched a wet cloth from inside. With a harsh dab, Gilbert winced, wishing to simply escape upstairs to his bedroom to process the time he had spent with Anne. But his friend and business partner wouldn’t let him off that easily. Sebastian led him inside and forced him into a chair by the fire. 

‘So, who finally punched you?’

‘Are you implying I deserved it?’

‘I’m not implying anything, it is just you have a habit of teasing and she has a reputation for violence as a result of the teasing.’

‘Are you talking about Anne?’ He traced the fading scar on his temple. 

Bash simply hummed, walking out of the room and down the hallway before returning with a clean handkerchief. Gilbert was pacing, fidgeting in a fit of desperation and frustration. 

‘It’s not that she wasn’t involved…’

‘Yes?’ Bash took a step back, his eyebrows raised as he waited for the reveal. 

‘I just didn’t want to see her get hurt.’

‘So this was you defending her honour? I think she’s got that under control.’

Bash could feel that they were on different wavelengths, while he was attempting to be light-hearted with good-natured teasing, Gilbert remained serious and contemplative. 

‘I just can’t get her scared expression out of my head. It was the same as when I first saw her with Billy’ he was peaking as if Bash wasn’t there, his eyes unfocused, his speech slow and almost monotone. 

‘Who is this Billy fellow?’

‘A brute and a bully.’ Gilbert paced faster, his hands coming to push his curls out of his face repeatedly. Bash shook his head as if he knew all the troubles of adolescence. 

‘He was saying awful things, and despite putting on a brave face I knew that a part of her was scared, so I punched him. But I underestimated him, and he almost killed me. I was on the ground, and I couldn’t get up.’ Gilbert sunk back into the chair. 

‘She hit him with her slate’. He said with a soft smile. ‘She saved me. While I was foolhardy, she kept a level head and saved me.’ 

‘You are gone.’ Bash commented with a chuckle. With one last inspection of Gilbert’s bruised knuckles, he left the room. Leaving Gilbert even more confused than before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the love while I was finishing writing this chapter. I hade mock exams so I was super stressed and all the lovely kudos and comments were wonderfull.  
> xx
> 
> Next Chapter  
> Gilbert is invited to stay at Green Gables after Mary and Bash's wedding.


	7. The aftermath of a wedding wherein a tragical romance begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne and Gilbert spend the remainder of the day after Bash and Mary's wedding together and battle improper thoughts.

**_“We would rather be ruined than changed_ **

**_We would rather die in our dread_ **

**_Than climb the cross of the moment_ **

**_And let our illusions die.”_ **

**_― W H Auden_ **

‘Tragical romance and all?’ Gilbert asked. The implication slipped his mind until Anne answered. 

‘Remains to be seen’

She had a wistful smile on her face as they stared at each other. The spell seemed to last forever, stretching out like warm, sugary toffee. It continued through the journey to the train station. His arm brushed hers, and the equilibrium of glances danced back and forth, never quite meeting. They were stiff on the bench waiting for the next train, shoulders pressed tight together. Gilbert could feel every shiver that tingled through her body, and he suppressed a growing urge to wrap his arms around her. It would not do to think about such things. Anne’s thoughts were racing in a similar direction. Her gaze kept falling on his forearm which was covered by layers of wool and cotton. How she longed to peel them back and trace those words again. But it was Gilbert, and that was the downside really. 

‘It was a lovely service.’ Anne commented, as much out of a need to fill the silence as admiration. 

‘It was.’

Marilla and Matthew chatted in low voices only a meter away. The two young friends lapsed into silence again. It was comfortable, a quiet created by years of endless bickering. They smiled, content and peaceful for once, and in agreement: it was a lovely service. Bash couldn’t stop grinning, and Mary was so excited she could hardly get her words out quick enough. Her laughter echoed through the small church as they walked together back down the aisle. Anne sat next to Gilbert both then and now, and thought about her own marriage. 

Ever since her time at the orphanage, her fantasies had been filled with handsome strangers and romantic gestures. But now, settled down in Avonlea where the baby’s breath and pale roses filled her senses, she now dreamed of a small wedding on the fields of Green Gables with rows of kindred spirits. Her dress was not silk and covered in lace, but flowy, with a slight frilly collar and puffed sleeves. Perhaps, Gilbert would be there, staring back at her from the rows, in his father’s top hat and tie. How ridiculous was it that only a year ago she would have rather died her hair green than face Gilbert Blythe, and now she wanted to stay friends with him long enough for him to be invited to her wedding?

Gilbert was thinking about how thankful he is that he doesn’t have to spend the week after the wedding with the married couple. Before he worked on the steamship he prided himself on being a perfect gentleman who would never think an imperfect through. Yet, between the groans in the dark as the men grasped at release and the women of the night that wandered the street corners at every port, it was hard to avoid the corruption that dwelled in his mind. He had seen things the Avonlea boys couldn’t even put into words. Events in dark alleys, and in rooms with smoke soaked wallpaper crowded with half-naked women. The older crew had gotten a laugh out of his plum tomato red face as he attempted to look anywhere but their waitress’ chest. These thoughts crept upon him at the worst times. In the middle of the afternoon during class, as he lay in bed almost asleep, sat next to Anne for the next hour. 

He was thankful the Cuthberts had given him an open invitation to come back with them on the train and then for dinner and a night over if he was feeling lonely. All the way on the train home, shoulder to shoulder with Anne again, he thought about Green Gables. About how every time he walked through the gate Matthew would be there to offer a shy smile and tip of his hat and Marilla would place food in front of him and glare until he swallowed every mouthful. 

On the train that rumbled its way towards Avonlea, Anne gazed out the window, catching glimpses of the trees growing back their leaves at the train rushed past, Gilbert was engaged in a pleasant conversation with Matthew and Marilla about the current rise in the price of wheat and the impact on small farm communities like Avonlea. Gilbert, whose farm mainly grew apples in its orchard, was not as passionate as the Cuthberts. He thus found himself watching the back of Anne’s head, now supported in the cup of her hand resting on the windowsill. The rumble of the train continued, and the rocking feeling seemed to soothe him into a peaceful state where the Cuthbert’s voices faded, and the red of Anne’s hair was the only thing he focused on. He was delirious and dizzy with spontaneous tiredness that left his thoughts running wild. 

They went in directions he could not have conceived. At one point he was naming all their children after her, then he was crying at his father’s funeral as he saw her walk away. Distantly, he could feel a sense of regret, but when he tried to pinpoint where it was coming from, he chased it into a nothingness that was filled with stress for an upcoming English project for school. An essay about the portrayal of femininity in Frankenstein. He needed to ask Anne about her progressive views about dynamic rather than static female characters but hadn’t the time. Now she was here, next to him

Then the train stopped. Anne turned to face forward, their eyes meeting before he turned away out of a sense of shame and obligation.

That night, he did indeed go to Green Gables. The stiff peace of the house was reminiscent of the week before he left Avonlea after his father died. It was agonising to entertain the idea that he would have to suffer through the same terrible isolation. In a famished hurry, without bothering to change out of his dress clothes, Gilbert packed a bag and marched through the muddy spring fields towards the farmhouse with green gables. 

There was stew, and hearty brown bread he slathered with freshly churned butter. Marilla served that mornings scones for dessert, apologising for not having anything nicer. But they were crumbly and sweet and Gilbert wouldn’t let her apologise. Anne bit her lip to keep from giggling when Matthew escaped to his bedroom as soon as he was done eating. Then Marilla was apologising for that, and Anne was forced to drag Gilbert away from the table before it escalated. He had already begun to clear the dishes in an attempt to soothe Marilla’s mind but it was only making her fuss more. 

Anne yanked Gilbert after her, shouting a bearly comprehensible ‘Please excuse us Marilla,’ before bolting up the stairs. She led him down the hallway, opening the second door to the end and forcing him in before slamming the door shut. He could hear Marilla faintly yell a complaint but he was too captivated by what Anne had just done. It was only then, after plopping down on the bed, that where he was, came back to him. 

Anne seeing the questioning look in his eye, answered ‘This is the spare room, I made the bed for you this morning.’ She smoothed out the bedspread as she sat down. ‘My room is next door, at the end of the hallway.’

The butterflies in Gilbert’s stomach fluttered in an agonisingly wonderful sensation. 

‘I’m sorry I rushed you up here, it’s only that Marilla is very particular about some things.’

‘There is no need to apologise, Anne.’ 

Somehow, Anne managed to remain carefree and threw herself back across the bed, her braids outspread like wings. 

‘We must both learn to stop over apologising.’ 

Gilbert watched her in amazement as he, stiff as a board, suffered from the nauseating sensations of anxiety and joy. He was seeing a new side of Anne, the one that read the books from Marilla’s childhood in nooks, and who spent the afternoon kneading bread and forking hay in the barn. This Anne, like the Anne he saw every weekday, was melodramatic and without bounds, but had a touch more sincerity to her. He was coming to realise that Anne, in her desire to be loved, limited her self. Perhaps not all the way, but enough of a reduction that when Anne rambled on about how the next morning he must admire the blooms of the tree outside her window against the gold of the sunrise with her, he felt like he was meeting Anne all over again. 

‘What about Marilla. What will she say about you having a boy in your room?’

Anne pushed past the queasy flip of her stomach at the implications. She had never thought of Gilbert in that way. Of course he was a boy, but courtship or romance had never entered her mind, only hatred and, more recently, regret. She didn’t want Marilla to think anything of it, as that would make it more than it was, and it is not anything to begin with. She was friendly with Gilbert, and that is where the line was drawn. More to the point, why would it matter if Gibert was sat at her windowsill? If it was Diana Marilla wouldn’t even bat an eye. And anyway, to have Gilbert be the one bring up such a thing was unsettling. 

‘She will hardly mind, you are practically family.’ 

The butterfly's wings wilted, weighed down by the clear distinctions between family, friend, and lover. It was then that Anne took her leave, and he promised to wake early. As the door swing closed behind her, Gilbert crumbled. His cheeks nestled in his palms, desperately hiding, or else deflecting, from the bare walls around him. 

The golden light of the sun dipped down, fleeing beyond the horizon, and Gilbert was left with little more than a flickering candle to undress by. Off went his suit jacket, last worn at his father’s funeral; then the waistcoat, socks, black tie, and bracers. All that was left was his nicest trousers made of soft dark wool, and a crisp white cotton shirt, now laced with wrinkles. He folded it all neatly and placed the stack of clothes on the chair in the corner. 

But once he was in bed, in his cotton pyjamas he had packed, and after blowing out the stubby candle,  Gilbert couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t settle on if it was the fact it was a strange bed, or if it was that said strange bed had only a wall separating him from Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. Even at his own house, their closeness taunted him. Just a fifteen-minute walk through the fields and he would arrive at her doorstep. And now, hearing her footsteps and the rustle of her bedsheets, it overwhelmed him. He was too close, yet still so distant. And, in a single moment, it was all shattered with a sob. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am obsessed with fashion history so I took extra care in detailing what Gilbert would have worn (hopefully without making it weird, I didn't want to sexualise someone who is underage).  
> You should be thankful I didn't put him in a nightgown or the outside things men used to wear. 
> 
> Next Chapter:  
> The morning after and a visit to church.


	8. In which they take two steps forward, and one step back.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne and Gilbert wake up in bed together. 
> 
> In which I play fast and loose with the Victorian era because you know that Shirbert doesn't care about the rules. Their courtship would be a thing to behold.

**“I stood still, vision blurring, and in that moment, I heard my heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower's stem.”**

**― Diana Gabaldon**

With a silent prayer, Gilbert crept into the dim hallway. For an agonising half a second, he stood with his hand poised ready to knock on the sturdy door. But his knuckles never connected. It creaked open and Anne stood on the other side, dressed in only a nightgown. Gilbert’s heart dropped and he felt its thumping in his abdomen. Her eyes were red from crying, her cheeks damp with fallen tears. Gilbert clung to the only thing he had left, the morals and propriety that he had been raised with. There was much more than a physical distance between them. Stepping through the threshold would go against everything that gave him a chance at sanity. 

‘It felt so real.’ Her voice was cracked and broken. Her blotchy red cheeks were resemblant of a painting, as was her fiery hair contrasted with her pale skin in the moonlight. He remembered seeing her in a museum in New York, on the tense day before he boarded the boat to Charlottetown. As he lay in bed that night, it came back to him how much she would adore every brushstroke and catch of the light. But she was already fast asleep.

‘I’m sorry I woke you Gilbert.’ She mumbled into his chest. She had taken the great leap, and lurched with a sob into his arms. He had a strange feeling of simply being a warm body, easily replaced. She smelled of apple blooms in his orchard, the fresh hay and earthy smell that comes from deep in the island’s soil. She smells like the town he grew up in, the very trees he played between growing up. She smells like all he’s ever known. 

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ He knows the feeling. The subconscious spinning a web of lies in the one place of rest and comfort. The nightmares follow him too. At first, it was on the boat, when he blamed it on the rumbles that sparked twisted visions. But they were not of monsters, or of men; but of loss and loneliness. They were an extension of the life he already lead. The youngest, and the last, cursed to become an adult far before he is ready. It is this sympathy that lets him hold her tight. He did not seek comfort for himself, he was entirely selfless as he cradled her shoulders, still unsure. 

She shook her head against his chest. 

He gripped her arms and guided her away. Now they were in limbo, the illusion was beginning to fade. The longer they stay standing like that, an arms length apart, the more they would question. Either he could leave or he could stay. His rational brain reminded him of proper conduct and what Marilla and all of Avonlea will think. But his heartbeat out a rhythm too strong to fight against. 

‘Please stay.’

It’s her voice that won him over. He couldn't leave her with those tears and that husky broken voice. She needed him. In the morning he can make amends. Anne doesn’t think of the thoughts of the small town, or Marilla, or to an extent even Gilbert. She was lost and shattered. If he left, then her nightmare would come true, everyone she trusts will leave. 

Note she didn’t think about love, purposefully. She did trust him, to an extent. She trusted that he would not do anything unseemly, or ridicule her in the coming school day. As much as she hated to admit it, he was gentlemanly, if not to an extent  _ kind.  _ That word is a bitter one to label him. However, despite their shaky beginnings, Anne can plainly see that he is generous and courteous to the rest of the town. And sometimes that's worse. Because then it's just her that harbours ill feelings for him, and that is an even worse position to be in. 

As she slipped under the sheets, and Gilbert sat awkwardly on the edge, she couldn’t quite admit to herself that she had any connection to him. She must push it all aside: his broadened shoulders from spending long days in the fields, and the curly hair that falls in his face in desperate need of being cut. Her hand, clasped in his calloused one, means nothing except a comfort she didn’t dare put to Gilbert. She began to resent herself, her stubborn nature wouldn’t let her admit that it’s soothing for him to recite the tales of his adventures to her in a soft tone that gently lulled her to sleep. That would mean giving in. 

He woke up the next morning in a strange bed. The sun was streaming through the window and it registered in the back of his mind that Anne was right,  _ the snow queen looks beautiful against the sunrise _ . Her hand was still clasped in his, her hair tickling his nose. He doesn’t quite remember when that happened. 

The day comes back to him only when there is a harsh bang on the door and Marilla called Anne’s name. It was a Sunday. 

It was not Anne that first invited him to sit with them through the tedious Sunday service. For the past month or so, Marilla had been coming up with increasing ways of mentioning Gilbert Blythe. Anne suffered through conversations over what sort of horse Matthew should help him buy, or if he is still the top math student out of the measly group of Avonlea school children. Then, one weekend, as the young man exited the church once again at his lonesome (Mary and Sebastian were not allowed to join the congregation), Marilla had the surprising audacity to holler. 

It was from then on that Gilbert rotated between Miss Stacy, who was also alone, the Lyndes who now with their youngest away had a nurturing nature and no outlet, and the Cuthberts. Naturally, as he had sat with Miss Stacey last week, he would sit by the back with the Cuthbert siblings the following Sunday. However, a gnawing sensation warned him of the events that transpired. That, and the fact that Anne had not dared even give him a glare in recognition all morning, was enough for him to make his excuses and return to his seat next to the school teacher. 

Anne sat with her hands firmly placed on her lap, cradled atop the seafoam green of her Sunday best. She looked stiff, avoiding the casual glances they would normally share if sitting apart. If the minister went into a long, winding and inevitably boring speech, she could always count on Gilbert to roll his eyes or fake check his watch, just to see a smile flicker. She fidgeted with her hands, recalling the roughness of his calluses and the smoothness of his nails.

Anne was terrified. Her life around gilbert had been organised. Ther were the afternoons spent with Diana practising a new song whose dainty tune sent shivers across her skin. And then the chores and meals at Green Gables. The White Way of Delight was in full bloom and Anne took every opportunity to go with Matthew on the cart to town. 

The night prior had her rattled. Her life in Avonlea was finally settled, and she had come to terms with the aggravation Gilbert caused her, and now it was thrust upside down. 

It was a horrible decision really, to open that door as she saw the shadow of his feet in the sliver of light coming from underneath. And, it was hard to remember if she attempted to contain her sobs, or wished secretly that he would hear. It had a dizzying effect of inducing both fear and giddiness. In an odd sort of way, disrespecting the rules was a newfound joy. Before, she had tried desperately to please everyone, and it only ended with displaying all her faults. But last night, with Marilla just down the hall, and the warmth of Gilbert beside her, and the shivers of apprehension, waves of contained dizzy elation rippled in her mind.

But the morning after, when the sun rose again and reality followed, Anne found it had to accept that in the dead of the night, she hadn't found Gilbert half bad. He was at least considerate enough to sleep atop the blanket. But still, avoiding him seemed the only option, it had worked well enough already. 

When Anne surfaced from her thoughts, the minister was in the middle of a long monologue about how young women are like flowers in full bloom, just waiting to be picked. She gritted her teeth and swore never to let anyone pick her as she would a flower. Women were not meant to be thrust into a bouquet but left to sprout gracefully and haphazardly from the ground. 

Anne allowed herself only one glance at Gilbert before marching swiftly out the door before the rest of the village spilt out onto the steps. Gilbert got lost in the crowd. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter  
> The roles are reversed.   
> Gilbert wins the spelling bee  
> Anne saves herself.


	9. The tale of a return to a well-known feud and a simple game of daring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne proves her intelligence and bravery, at the expense of her budding friendship with Gilbert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, and some of the next couple, are based on events of the book which are brilliant and have some amazing and hilarious encounters between Anne and Gilbert.   
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and sweet comments! And thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm sorry updates have become progressively slower, but they will probably continue about once a month until summer and my exams are over.   
> xx

**_“He didn’t save me, though. He allowed me the freedom to save myself, which is the very best type of rescue.”_ **

**_―_ ** **_Amy Engel,_ ** **_The Book of Ivy_ **

Anne skipped her way to the schoolhouse in high spirits. As the summer heat crept in, Miss Stacey was hosting more and more lessons outside in the sweet open air. Marilla had bought Anne a new sun hat, decorated with dainty artificial flowers that would never wilt, and she had spent the previous evening editing her latest story as she continued the story club  _ In Memoriam _ . The rain in the spring and the cloudless skies of June promised a hefty harvest which had the small farming community of Avonlea in a cheery mood. All seemed well in the world.

When they all paraded outside again before lunch, Anne’s exuberant joy hit its peak. The girls sat in rows, their hands busy with making daisy chains as they listened to their teacher’s voice mix with the fluttering breeze that rustled their curls. With a quip on the tip of his tongue, Gilbert was prevented by Miss Stacey’s announcement. 

‘I was pondering the idea of reviving the spelling bee. I understand that you did not enjoy Mr Phillips' teaching style, but I think an educational competition is just the right thing to finish off the school year with.’

Anne’s ears pricked, and she could feel most of the class turn their eyes to her, Gilbert in particular. Memories of last year filled everyone’s minds as Miss Stacey had them all stand up together, facing her. It was expected by everyone that it would be either Anne or Gilbert that won, but a certain amount of enthusiasm was shown to please Miss Stacey. 

‘P-R-E-D-I-C-A-M-E-N-T.’

‘Very good Tillie. Gilbert, spell pneumonia.’

‘P-N-E-U-M-O-N-I-A.’

‘That was perfect. Anne, please spell exuberance’

‘E-X-U-B-E-R-A-N-C-E’

‘Well done Anne. Ruby, spell mystifying’

It continued as the sun peaked in the sky, and soon the only ones left were the star students that everyone had predicted. Moody had come in at a surprising fourth, and Diana at third, and now it was just Anne and Gilbert. 

She glared, he smirked. 

‘Gilbert, please spell factitious’

‘F-A-C-T-I-T-I-O-U-S’

‘Very well done. Anne: Your word is Chrysanthemum.’

Anne took a deep breath. She knew it was only a hard word because it was long and hard to pronounce. Gilbert had struggled as well, he almost said there was an S in the middle, but he had caught himself in time. Now all the pressure was on her and the beautiful flower. She pictured the word written on the pouch the seeds came in from the general store. There was a Y. 

‘C-H-R-Y-’ 

Gilbert faced ahead. He thought of the roses that Mrs Lynde had planted. The crispness of the petals that curled and bowed in delicate arrangements. Fastened to Anne's straw hat. The sun hurt his eyes, but he stared ahead. 

‘-S-A-N-’

Diana gave her a smile of encouragement. She had faith, in her friend and of a recurrence of last year's event. Gilbert would never allow her to lose. 

‘-T-H-’

Anne clasped her hands. The skin rubbed as she decided what to do. Her nails were long and dug into her palm. But smooth. 

-A-M-U-M’

‘I’m sorry Anne, but that's wrong. It's an E, not an A at the end.’ 

The class was silent. Anne, not giving herself a moment of hesitation, marched over and sat down on the grass with her peers. If she had only seen Gilbert’s look of confusion rather than the prescribed joy, that no one dared mention. 

Josie, as Miss Stacey made her way back into the bleach white schoolhouse, giggled something about a dare. It escalated quickly. Jane jumped on one leg halfway across a nearby field, and Charlie Salone wobbly walked a couple of meters along the top of a nearby fence. 

‘That was hardly an impossible task. I heard of a girl in a circus who could walk a ridgepole.’ Anne commented to Diana, pointing out the ridge at the top of the schoolhouse roof. Josie overheard. 

‘If you think it's so easy, why don't you do it.’ It was not a question but a challenge. One that Anne accepted definitely. She hoisted herself up the wooden fence. 

With her arms outspread, she accomplished it with fewer wobbles of unbalance and in a shorter time. Josie was further infuriated. ‘Well, Anne, why don't you walk the entirety of the ridgepole of the schoolhouse, if the fence wasn't enough of challenge.’ Josie sneered. 

‘A ladder is still propped up on the back from the repairs. If you walk to the front and back, then you shall prove yourself to be put alongside that  _ circus girl.’ _

Anne took a deep breath, set her shoulders straight, braids carefully behind them, and marched around to the back of the building. The ladder was tall, and her peers collected at the base as she climbed. Diana pleaded helplessly for her to come down. Gilbert stood speechless, scared out of his wits. 

The ground, with each step, shrunk further away. The height collected until her hands could reach and plant on the dark sunlit roof. With a sway and a swallowed gasp, she was kneeling. The only way she could continue was to close her eyes and think of the satisfaction gained from seeing the look on Josie's face when she walked back. 

Gilbert, several feet below her, gripped the ladder tight and watched her feet disappear out of his view as she stood up. His stomach did a terrible turn, and a burn fizzed in his chest as the apprehension kicked in. He had faith, but not enough to overcome the sick dread that spiked and dipped with her every movement. Her braids whipped and her skirt rustled as the breeze threatened her balance, but she caught herself as a nervous hush fell over the students. The reality of the danger hit them. 

Anne distracted herself, one foot, and then another. She did not glance at how close she was to the other side, or how far off the ground. She stayed in her head, recalling, from memory, as much of Jane Eyre as she could. At one point last year it seemed she hardly glanced at the page when she read, it was all memorised. She recited the part where Jane stands, in front of the whole class for an entire day, silent and still. She had the same feeling. She had been ordered, and now she will prove them wrong. She won’t give them anything to insult. Definitely, she persisted. 

To the end and back, she planted her feet firmly, not letting even one step be taken for granted. 

Gilbert could finally swallow full breathes when he saw Anne’s leg stick out over the edge of the roof. Her foot latched onto the rung of the ladder, and he coveted the vibrations that reached him to prove that she was safe. As she neared the last rungs, he offered his hand to help her down. 

Anne kept her hands firmly planted on the wood of the ladder until her feet settled on the grass. 

Then she walked away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter  
> Rumours spread through Avonlea after a moment in the woods is witnessed.


	10. Wherein a brief reunion has repercussions in a small town during Victorian times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary may need Anne's delicious cooking, but perhaps not at the expense of the truth, or privacy in general.

**“I have suffered from being misunderstood, but I would have suffered a hell of a lot more if I had been understood.”**

**―** **Clarence Darrow**

Rumours swept through the students of Avonlea. About the daring feat, and how afterwards Anne had practically given Gilbert pneumonia with just a frosty look and the cold shoulder. Gilbert was quiet the next day and Anne was similarly sullen. A rigidity formed in their interactions, which were becoming few and far between. 

No one quite knew the cause, but tides were shifting back to a time, not long forgotten. Yet the sea is the sea, whether lapping against the cliffs of the island or wreaking ships. The wind would shift back. 

As it always does when those two were involved. 

In the next week, one particular interaction created gossip again. This time involving a walk down lovers lane, infamous words, and a scandalised witness in the woods. 

Summer soaked the island with sun, dotting more and more freckles in Anne's nose and the back of her hands. She detested them. Lemon juice stung, and the ointment from the special pharmacy in Charlottetown smelled like cabbage and damp cloth. Her freckles were as stubborn as she was. She settled for bonnets, big-brimmed and trimmed with flowers and ribbons Marilla and unearthed from storage. She now had a light, summer dress, with as much lace as Marilla would allow. Her apron covered most of it, so she was often in the habit of being prepared to whisk it off if there was a knock at the door. 

The eggs she had collected were in a basket on the counter, fresh wildflowers from her walk in a pitcher on the windowsill. The light streamed in and refracted rainbows across the shining surfaces. The kitchen was bright, and a breeze rustled through the screen door. It was a perfect day, with no tarnishes in it yet. 

Marilla was keen to bake enough bread to last both them and the Lacroix’s enough for the week. Her heart was warming to the prospects of a baby, and she was making sure that the neighbours knew they had the Cuthbert's support. It had mostly been orchestrated by Anne, who with the swelling of Mary's abdomen, grew more gleeful by the day. She had said to herself that she would remain positive. Her treatment by the families she had been with previously was forced out of her memory as she knew that this baby would be as loved as she was in Avonlea. 

There were buns, egg washed and warm on the table, and the dough for biscuits rising by the sink. Anne was focused on the loaves now. Brown whole wheat, with a pinch of cinnamon, a Cuthbert family recipe. Just as she was adding the flour, Jerry, from the barn, shouted her name. 

As Gilbert walked up the path to Green Gables, Matthew waved at him from the barn, while Jerry hollered Anne’s name. It was not long after that she burst through the door, apron dusted with flour and a mixing bowl in her hands. She rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead, but it only spread the white power more. 

He gained comfort from the domesticity abound. Marilla, reprimanding Anne for taking the baking outside, gave him a polite nod. He replied, but his attention was focused on Anne, who was handing her mother the bowl and hastily untying the apron that smocked a dainty, yellow patterned dress. Gilbert, knowing absolutely nothing about female dress, could still appreciate the smile that Anne got when she admired it and smoothed the lace. It was made beautiful because of her. But he must keep to the task at hand. 

Mary was struggling with the ever-growing baby, and her cravings called for a recipe that Anne had made months ago and gave to the newly engaged Lacroix. The whole day, pacing and stroking her stomach, Mary had been describing, begging, for Anne’s famous pear, apple and peach crumble Gilbert was sent on a mission to arrive with either the recipe or the cook. 

‘Hello,’ Anne said. She did not say his name. 

‘Hello, Anne. I have come to ask a favour.’

Anne did not let her glee, or else her resentment, be expressed. In fact, she was rather cold. Diana had been by to inform her of the spread of gossip. Linked to her icy behaviour. It seemed only fair she kept it up. Her stubbornness succeeded once again. 

‘What sort of favour?’ 

She crossed her arms as Gilbert explained. 

Marilla watched them go, tumbling down the dirt path, cutting left, across the fields and towards the woods till Anne and Gilbert were out of view, the tree’s concealed their pale flushed faces. Anne, bonneted and dressed up in her yellow sundress, was urged to quicken her pace as Gilbert's strides outnumbered her’s three to one. First, she skipped along while he hung back, but now Mary's voice rattles in his mind. She will be pissed if he does hurry. He has come to learn that pregnant women are scary when they are angry, especially if they are angry at you specifically. They marched on, Anne caught up, and they exited the tree line. The farm emerged. The ten-minute walk had felt like twenty. 

Anne placed her basket containing the ingredients that the Blythe farm may not have (counting on them having preserves of the delicious Blythe orchard apples) as Mary came waddling from the sitting room, a grin on her face that immediately lit up Anne’s face as well. The two young women shared friendly chatter as Gilbert aided in scouring for the proper ingredients and cooking utensils. Anne rummaged next to him, searching for a certain pot as Mary situated herself on a particularly comfortable chair. She observed as the two teenagers did their little dance. 

First, they avoided each other, not daring to touch or maintain eye contact. They were ansty and years of distance were compounded into the two meters square they occupied. They stumbled around each other as if a growth spurt had thrown off their spatial awareness. Elbows stabbed, and cupboards opened mistimed. It was bad square dancing, with no feeling for the rhythm. 

Mary took up her mending, a smile on her face. Her mind filled with thoughts of the future. 

Some hours later, with the last of the sticky crumble plated and eaten, Gilbert and Anne were once again alone. 

‘Let me walk you home, Anne.’ He asked as she assembled the things she had brought, placing them neatly in her basket.

‘You really don't need to.’ She was firm. She wished for their old boundaries, where he accepted that they weren't friends, and they never would be. It was, in fact, their conflicts that made him eager to apologize and attempt to get on her good side. 

‘I know.’ 

She was a rock, and he was a hard place. 

‘It's getting dark, Marilla won't forgive me if I don't.’

That's what caught her. Marilla would truly never forgive either of them if Anne was found to have walked even the short distance back to Green Gable. 

The door banged shut behind them. They strolled, Anne her basket in the crook of her arm, and Gilbert with only his white shirt and suspenders on in the hot summer night. Perhaps that is why they cut down Lover’s Lane, instead of the path closer to the lake of shining waters, or even by the schoolhouse. This route is much prettier in the summer, with the lush green of the plants, and hazy smell of wildflowers. It’s light and fresh and calm. Gilbert simply follows. 

Halfway home, Gilbert rolled up his sleeves. The warm sunset that filled the forest felt like it was collecting in the air around him. It billowed under his stiff shirt. Anne could feel it, the humidity washing up from the warming ocean. The sun blazed right in their eye line and filled the lush landscape a golden glow. The canopy of trees shot down hazy bolts of light that made Anne drowsy her feeling of wonder. The island continued to amaze her with its beautiful gifts. 

Once she pulls her eyes from the scenery around her and finds that Gilbert is close by her side, her eyes catching the words now uncovered. They were blurred by movement but they would always be etched in her memory. It was mundane and she could sense the tension they caused him. The school was a hotbed of conversation that was teasing and not quite perfect. Little snippets caught his attention, like hearing your name on a stranger’s lips. Most of the older grades use pens, pencils were for the younger kids.

Anne decided to pick at the ice between them, free their ship from the arctic icebergs that threatened their voyage. Although she had a dislike for Gilbert, she still saw him as a human being as much as she wished she didn’t, it would make hating him much easier. 

‘I meant what I said, that first day, Gilbert. You’ll meet her soon.’

They had slowed, the magic of the forest casting a spell. Before they marched on. 

Minnie May was frolicking, innocently, and promised not to stain her dress. Since her pink skirt had already been ruined, she avoided every reason to return home. She instead strayed further, winding and wallowing in her agony of having spoiled her favourite play dress. It had bows in all the right places, and trims of lace that she longed to fiddle with during her piano lessons. Life was carefree, and thus she wandered further until she came across two figures in the woods. 

Walking, doubled, in pace. A couple, from afar. Her hair was the colour of a carrot, he wore scuffed boots. They were quite a pair. The two orphans, as she had overheard. Diana’s friends. The girl came to a tea that Minnie May was forced to suffer through with her hands on her lap and no sugar in her tea. One biscuit each. 

She ran shrieking home, ready to spill forth what she saw today to anyone who will listen. A maid opened the door, but she giggled past. 

‘Mama, guess who I saw in the forest?’

She glanced up from her sewing, glancing at the grass stain with a frown. 

‘What darling?’ she focused on the task in her hands. 

‘I saw Anne and Gilbert, walking together in the woods.’

‘Alone?’

‘Yep,’ she thrust herself into an armchair five times too big, like a doll propped up on her bed upstairs. She tried to remember where. 

‘Lover’s lane.’

‘That is where they were?’ 

Minnie May had captured the attention she wanted. She did not know how or why, but she strung it out, although she had no more information to give. This is where the truth began to unfurl. For better or worse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now that I'm in quarantine and have no exams to revise for, I will most likely be posting more frequently. 
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER  
> Gossip spreads of a secret courtship while Anne sets to recreate a tragical romantic poem.


	11. The tale of Camelot and a dreaded, much-resented rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As gossip spreads through Avolea of the secret promenade in the woods, Diana and Cole go back to their old hijinks, with disastrous results.

**“Nature pulls one way and human nature another.”**

**―** **E. M. Forster**

Mrs Lynde came marching up the path the next morning as Marilla rushed to open the gate in time. 

‘Put the kettle on, I’ve got news and you will want to sit down to hear it.’ Rachel announced as she quickened her pace. Marilla, closing the gate and wiping her hands on her apron, hurried after her. 

The cups were filled and steaming as the two ladies leaned close over the kitchen table. 

‘It concerns your Anne. And that boy Gilbert Blythe.’

‘Oh?’ Marilla asked as if any news that Rachel had wouldn’t concern those two. The tale of the ridgepole that circulated last week gave her enough fright, but the tone that Mrs Lynde was using insinuated something less dangerous and more secretive. 

‘Mrs Pye informed me in the queue at the bakery that Minnie May told Mrs Berry that Anne and Gilbert were seen walking together. At dusk. Quite close as I have been told.’

‘And the significance is…?’ She reached for a biscuit. 

‘Marilla!’ Rachel reprimanded. ‘Why, they seem to be courting. In secret.’ 

She whispered the last part as if it being secret was a secret itself.

‘Anne? And Gilbert?’

‘Yes, Marilla. What a shock this must be to you. Your dear Anne, and so young. Oh, why I did see this coming from miles off. How he dotes on her, those eyes of his are filled with adoration. The whole town will be overjoyed by such a match. Ever since that incident with the slate, I knew that passion would lead to love.’ 

Marilla took time to absorb what Rachel had said with prolonged sips of tea. Was Anne truly keeping this from her? And with Gilbert, a boy she could hardly say the name of without distaste? With the events of last week and Anne’s sulking as of late, it must have been a very recent development. 

‘I am sure, Rachel, that if such a thing were to happen, Anne would tell me.’ She returned her cup to her saucer for added effect. ‘And, because she has not yet, and I have not asked her about it, I do not wish to fall victim to such frivolous gossip.’

Rachel humphed in response but accepted her friend's conclusion. It was all a matter of time. She thought,  _ just wait. A couple more years and she will be coming home with a ring.  _ The entire town knew. There are looks in the general store when Anne entered only to spin on her heels when Gilbert glanced up. They sat in the pew with the Cuthbert siblings between them. Once Anne raised her hand in class, Gilbert’s immediately lowered. The precautions mount, but Avonlea, (Mrs Lynde to be specific) knew that it is all delusion to mask true feelings. 

At about the same time, a kilometre and a half away, Diana and Anne were at the edge of the closest river waiting for Cole to appear. Aunt Josephine had given Cole permission to take the train into Avonlea to visit his friends during high summer. For weeks, ever since school had let out, Anne and Diana had wanted to recreate the legend of Elaine, the fair maid who fell in deep, tragic, melancholy, unrequited love with the dashing Sir Lancelot. And with the news circling, Diana and Cole had set up another meeting. This time, it was more complicated, as they needed to get Anne to be the one to lie on the raft as it flowed down the river while Gilbert was one the bridge at just the right time. They had sent weeks worth of letters back and forth, positively doubling the normal amount of postage coming in and out of Avonlea. 

Anne was thrilled when Diana produced a chiffon scarf to match her own bunch of lilies she had snipped on the way over. The sun off the rushing water and the smell of the damp earth was the perfect scenery for their recreation. 

‘Anne, you must be Elaine.’ Diana remarked, ‘I could never have the courage.’

‘Oh, Diana, of course, you could.’

‘But Anne, to lie down and pretend I was dead, all alone on the raft, why I shiver at the very thought. No, You must do it.’

‘It's quite ridiculous to have a redheaded Elaine.’

‘It will be so terribly romantic, though, Anne.’ Cole pushed. ‘And horribly tragic. No one could do it as well as you.’ 

Although Diana and Cole were trying very hard to get Anne to agree, they knew it was only because she would truly be the best at the job. 

‘Well,’ Anne conceited, ‘If I am to be Elaine, then Diana you must be my dashing Lancelot, and Cole King Arthur, or Guinevere if you wish.’

That brought them all to gleeful smiles as they prepared to push Anne off from shore.

Anne’s eyes were closed, but the scent of the lilies filled her senses, along with the singing birds and the rushing of the water. She was in such a peaceful state, that she hardly felt the cold of the water as it began to soak her dress and fill the raft. Her eyes shot open and she resisted sitting up entirely. It wouldn't be long before she was completely submerged.

Her hair was weighted with water, and the heavy cloth of her dress was drenched and her legs were tangled in her skirt. Just sitting up flooded the raft more and Anne’s eyes darted as she tried to find the closest landfall only to discover that the columns that supported an upcoming bridge were her only chance. Anne had never learned to swim and trying to make it to the edge of the river seemed an impossible thought. 

The raft had broken further by her movements and the buckets of water that now filled it, slipping over the sinking edge. Anne took a deep breath and clung on to the edge of the raft until she reached the bridge. She clung to the wooden beams, her loose hair dripping in her face and one of her stockings gone along with her shoe. She was a shivering, chattering mess when Gilbert found her. 

Gilbert had been surprised to see Cole making his way to where he was in the orchard preparing for the upcoming harvest. He knew from the chatter at school that he would be in Avonlea for the weekend, but he hardly saw each other as friendly enough to warrant a visit. He gave a polite wave as the other boy neared. 

‘Good afternoon.’ Gilbert greeted cautiously.

‘Afternoon, Gilbert. I hope I’m not interrupting.’

Gilbert dropped his basket of apples to show he was listening. 

‘I came to ask a favour.’

Cole had a twinkle in his eye that GIlbert tried to ignore. 

‘Sure, anything for a friend.’

Why Cole managed to persuade him to deliver a letter to a random house that was on the other side of town was only revealed when he heard Anne’s plead for help as he walked over the bridge. At first, he leaned over upon hearing frantic yelps. But when he caught sight of her clinging desperately to the support beams, he wasted no time in his rescue. 

His father used to take him fishing, after the brunt of the harvest season was over and they had time to spend the day in the lake by the Barry's house. Since he was young, he had been a keen swimmer, even when autumn chill set in at dusk. And that is why he yanked off his shoes and coat before vaulting himself off the side of the log bridge that was suspended over the quick stream. 

He found Anne struggling to keep her head above water. Her tears were inseparable from the rivets of water that splashed and bunched her skirts around her legs. It took her every effort to grip the wooden pillar. He popped up next to her, bobbing as the river rushed him past until he gripped the same beam.

‘Gilbert?’ She cried. 

'I'm here, Anne. Don't worry.' 

He hooked one arm around her waist and with the other guided them towards the embankment. He hoisted her out of the water, shivering from the cold as he pulled himself up after her. 

Anne wished that she could be thankful, but instead of gratefulness, all she felt was spite and resentment. Once again Gilbert had proved himself to be superior and Anne couldn't take another failure. To think that this was the thing of dreams, of fairy tales and romance. She had always wished for a saviour, and now that he arrived, she wished she could save herself. Perhaps a gentleman is not someone that does not allow a woman to do anything, but rather someone who understands that a lady needs help and grants it when asked. And she certainly didn't ask for Gilbert to give her his coat. At least he gave her the dignity of looking away when she stipped off her drenched dress so that all she wore was her shift, one stocking, a ribbon in her hair and his coat. 

Marilla had immediately drawn Anne a bath, asking questions that Anne dared not answer. Luckily, this time, no one had seen the blush on his face as he walked home soaked to the bone. Bash didn't have the energy to question Gilbert’s state, it now seemed a daily occurrence that something bizarre involving Anne would transpire. And it was always Anne. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER 
> 
> Anne recites a poem.  
> Gilbert does the same. 
> 
> Who knew a few lines of verse could have such effects?


	12.  In which poetry is utilised and past events have increasingly negative consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what it says on the tin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert needs to learn to keep eyes to himself or else he will scare Anne further away than she is already. 
> 
> Poetry is like the 1800s century karaoke. Just imagine Gilbert sitting on that stage singing a love song that goes straight over Anne's head.

**“As it has been said:**

**Love and a cough**

**cannot be concealed.**

**Even a small cough.**

**Even a small love.”**

**―** **Anne Sexton**

Anne, ever since she had read every poem in the curriculum for school, and scouring Green Gables for any book with any relation to poetry, had become fascinated with the medium. Miss Stacey had loaned her a collection of Emily Dickinson, which they both absolutely adored and often discussed after lessons. Poetry had a way of speaking to her heart that nothing else could. And thus she heard that there was a poetry reading recital in the village over, her heart leapt for joy. Even the events of last week couldn't put a damper on her excitement. 

It took relatively little to convince Marilla to let her go and even less to get Matthew to take her by buggy, hoping against hope that he would stay and watch her perform. Once Diana learned of the event, the two girls spent the afternoon rifling through Diana’s closet to find the perfect dress, then a ribbon to match which was artfully placed in Anne’s hair, free of its braids. The pale violet adorned with wispy lace contrasted her striking hair and brought out the blue greyness of her eyes. 

She recited the lines in her head the whole ride there. 

Waiting on the wings, Anne began to tremble. Memories of the mock and ridicule inflicted because of her past readings came back in haunting floods. It was not until her name was called, she crossed to centre stage, and saw him in the audience that she forced herself past her wallowing. Gilbert Blythe would not see her fail. He had appeared just at this ill-timed moment to watch her crumble, but she would not let him. With an eloquence of tone, she did not know she possessed, Anne’s voice rang clear through the hall. Reciting line after line, at a gentle speed that sent shivers down his spine. Gilbert joined in the standing ovation and called for an encore of the wonderful moment that they had all experienced. Lifting her chin at his eyes on her, Anne recited her favourite of Dickinson’s poems. 

And, as Anne cut down the row to join Matthew at the back, she heard a name ring out.  _ Gilbert Blythe, Bingen On The Rhine.  _ She sat just in time to see him step out on the stage. His reading was emotive, and Anne had to force herself to not fall under the spell that everyone else had already. She focused on each individual word, the descriptions of a soldier on his deathbed, recalling back his dear hometown of Bingen on the Rhine. As Anne was about the peace together its particular significance to Gilbert, he looked straight into her eyes and began the next stanza.

‘There's another--not a sister: in the happy days gone by,

You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye’

He averted his eyes after the first two lines, leaving Anne stock still in her seat, in inner turmoil for the rest of the poem. Thunderous applause broke out, and Anne pathetically attempted to join in. it was if a spell had been put on her. It was only Matthew’s insistence that they leave before it got busy that she drifted back firmly to the earth. 

But she was caught in a trap. With the horse and buggy insight, a name caught in her ear, bright voice that echoed through the crowd. Mary stood, Sebastian by her side, a ways down the path. They looked beyond her. Gilbert, tucking his hands in his pockets, marched past Anne, on her left, towards his family. He nodded in acknowledgement of her presence, but nothing more. Matthew, stiff and awkward in his pressed suit, allowed a couple answered questions. 

‘That was a wonderful performance, Anne.’ Mary commented once they stand next to one another in the damp grass. 

‘Thank you, Mary. Please tell Gilbert I enjoyed his as well.’ 

‘Why don’t you just tell him yourself.’

Anne was half expecting mary to call gilbert over so that she would have to confess that she had watched his entire performance and enjoyed the whole thing. It spoke wonders to her soul and she felt it necessary to read the poem herself and soak in its words one by one. It was clear he had a copy. Instead, Mary just returned her arms to circling her rounded abdomen, caressing it gently with a smile. Whether it was meant for Anne specifically, she could not tell. 

As if summoned, Gilbert sauntered over, arms crossed over his chest, waistcoat straightening under his jacket. ‘Mary, Anne.’ he nodded in turn

‘Anne was just telling me how much she enjoyed your reading.’

Gilbert glanced back over to her and Anne felt every swift rebuttal, filled with long clauses and complex words, float out her ears and get caught in the breeze. 

‘Uh, yes. Of course. It was a wonderful poem.’

‘Thanks.’ is his only answer, angling back towards Mary. 

Anne felt dismissed. Like when Mr Phillips did not want to listen to her ramblings anymore and began to move towards another student, slyly telling Anne to stop speaking. She felt utterly insignificant. 

Anne nudged Matthew to inform him she wanted to go. He parted, a bit reluctantly, and hopped up on the cart, grabbing the reins. Anne settled beside him, not wanting to look anywhere but the road ahead. 

Gilbert felt remorse build up and press against his lungs. His last breath of sanity was wasting. He gathered up his courage from where it lay somewhere deep within. Her coldness had made him dismissive and icy in return, a state Gilbert did not enjoy. He wished to profess how much he was moved by the words she spoke in a language that made sense but he never learned. It haunted him, the innate familiarity they shared. Perhaps that is also what forced them apart, that they were too close for their own comfort. 

As his thoughts tumbled through his brain, he could hear Mary and Sebastian having a discussion with Matthew. They were explaining that they needed to purchase more sugar and were going to the general store. Could Matthew take Gilbert home?

Gilbert understood why the couple didn’t want him to come. There were two reasons. Mostly, it was that due to the baby and the upcoming harvest season, as well as Gilbert only recently returning to school, Mary and Bash had not had enough time alone. The other was that they were protecting him from the stares, from the disapproval the quiet town harboured for the outsiders with darker shaded skin. They were trying to preserve his good name. And as much as he fought them tooth and nail, professing that he didn’t care about anything the townsfolk could do or say, he respected them enough to take their decisions to heart. It was hard for both of them. 

So Gilbert hopped up on the back of the cart, as there was no room to squeeze next to Anne at the front. As they jostled home, he felt the motion of Anne climbing into the back bed with him. Her legs slipped over the edge next to his, her pretty dress collecting dirt and dust. 

The sun slipped down the sky and the two teens sat in a questioning, unsettling silence. The rumbling of the cart matched the deliberations that jumbled in Anne’s brain. She really shouldn’t be upset that Gilbert Blythe had saved her from drowning, for all she knew she could have died, and yet she couldn’t allow herself to come even close to thanking him. It would be an acknowledgement that she owed him something, her life to be exact. And Anne did not want to find herself in a position of owing favours to gilbert. To add insult to injury, he had seen her drenched to the bone in only her slip. And she had seen him with his normally crisp white shirt close to transparent, the collar of his undershirt visible against his collarbone. That image would forever be seared into her brain. 

‘Your welcome.’ He nudged her, instantly regretting it and drawing back sharply. 

‘For what?’ She countered, knowing full well what he meant but not wanting to show how much she instantly understood. His gaze slipped into hers. ‘Oh, that.’

‘Yes, that.’ he acknowledged, mocking her bitter tone of indifference. ‘You’re welcome,’ he insisted. 

‘Thank you.’ She answered bluntly, her eyes trained far away over his shoulder, but her body was still angled in his direction. 

All Anne wanted was for him to apologise. She did not know for what or why. She simply felt that she was wronged and that somehow Gilbert was a fault. All their past interactions had her in a place she did not wish to remain in for long. There was a familiar intimacy she could shake. He had found her in states of desperation, and in a place of courage. She was beginning to realise why the rest of Avonlea praised him like their golden boy. He was brave and honourous, intelligent but humble. He was kind, patient and still stood up if need be. He was humorous when he wanted to be, and solum and emotional at the right moments. He was loyal to a fault. Anne was scared of all of this. She was terrified that it was true. That she couldn’t avoid that it was what she longed for: someone sturdy and dependable. 

She just hoped that her soulmate was just that.

When Anne arrived at school the following Monday, the girls were in quite an uproar over the events of the past week. Not only was Ruby upset that Anne had taken Gilbert away from her, but Josie was also positively wrecked that Anne was the first to enter a courtship and not her. Even Diana was keeping her distance and acknowledged that she felt betrayed that Anne had not told anyone. Ever since the disastrous attempt at the lake, Anne found herself distanced from her friends. 

‘I can’t believe you wouldn’t even ask Ruby’s permission. She still has dibs you know.’ Tilly blurted as soon as Anne took her seat. 

‘What? I’m sorry Ruby, but I -’ this encounter gave her deja-vu on her first day of school where despite her best efforts, she seemed to do everything wrong. And it all hinged on one Gilbert Blythe. 

‘It’s fine, Anne.’ Ruby said through a sob, ‘He was never going to like me anyway.’

Josie wrapped her arm around a trembling Ruby with a glare.

‘I hope you got what you wanted, Anne.’ Josie sneered. ‘You two have been looking awfully close lately. Should have known that the two orphans would find each other.’

She seemed to be looking for some sort of acknowledgement for her hurtful words but found none in the cluster of girls with their heads tipped low. Josie escorted ruby to the back row, both obviously distraught, just for different reasons. 

‘Don’t listen to them.’ Diana reassured Anne, but it was flat and emotionless and Anne couldn’t help feeling worse than if Diana had not said anything. Instead of being happy for her supposed courtship (albeit utterly non-existent) they were cold and even angry at her. Were women not supposed to stick together, to support each other's endeavours, romantic or otherwise? If Ruby had begun courting Gilbert, would Anne not support her? Be happy for her?

Well, that was a bad example, because it was obvious Gilbert had no interest in ruby besides a casual acquaintance, thankfully. And Anne and Gilbert were most definitely not courting. But it stung just the same, to see that her friends may not be as loyal and steady as she had hoped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER
> 
> Anne goes to a ball.
> 
> Gilbert apologises (to someone).


	13. Wherein apologies are made and things are set right (for now)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne is invited to a ball, Cole and Gilbert speak the truth, and friendship conquers all.

“The truth is rarely pure and never simple.”

―  **Oscar Wilde,** **The Importance of Being Earnest**

Diana was unsettled. She collapsed onto her arms atop the piano, the chaotic notes soothing her anger. It expressed just how she felt inside. She lifted her chest and pressed down again, revelling in the clatter and the frustrated huff of her mother cross-stitching in the farthest armchair. 

On one hand, she trusted that Anne would not keep such a big secret from her, thus Anne was suffering through the perils of gossip. However, on the other, was the daunting prospect that Anne had truly not trusted her with something so important. For years Diana had longed for this day, and now all she felt was distrust and confusion. 

And worst of all, Diana had unconsciously begun to spend less time around Anne, and even once she realised her actions, she made no effort to resolve them. All this drama had turned her against her best friend. And over what? A boy not worth more than two bales of hay and a mediocre cow?  _ No, this is not how it ends,  _ she told herself. What Diana needed to do now was reconcile with her bosom friend in time for Aunt Josephine's yearly harvest ball. Diana knew that they both would agree that their recent troubles should not prevent the enjoyment of such an event.

Diana found Anne in the chicken coop reprimanding one hen for pecking at another. 

‘Miss cluck, you really must respect miss gobble. I suggest you apologise while I take these eggs into the house.’

Anne turned to exit the chicken coop only to find Diana waiting for her. 

‘Diana!’ she said in surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’ Anne said, stern and hurt. She sharply turned away and Diana had the realisation that this is exactly how Gilbert must feel every day. She also felt his same need to make the situation better, through increasingly desperate means. 

‘Anne, wait! I came to apologise.’

Anne only continued to march up the path to the house and Diana had to run to catch up. Diana caught Anne in the kitchen, putting away the eggs. 

‘Anne, please. I came to invite you to Aunt Josipnine’s harvest ball. I know how much you enjoyed her last one.’ 

‘A ball?’

‘Yes. with music and dancing and beautiful costumes. Cole will be there. You must come.’

‘I hardly have anything to wear. My best dress is far too small.’

‘Don't be so foolish, I have plenty you could borrow.’

Anne relaxed a bit as her imagination stirred with newfound inspiration. Of course she would go. As she surveyed her life, the long summer of chores and the upcoming school year filled with preparing for the queen's exam, it seemed obvious to grasp the experiences as they came. 

‘I am truly sorry, Anne for the way I reacted. If it were true, I should have been supportive.’

‘So you know it's all fabricated?’

‘Of course.’ Diana may have taken a wild guess, but perhaps she knew her kindred spirit more than she knew herself. 

‘Oh Diana, I'm sorry as well.’

‘What for? I have been perfectly horrible to you. There is no reason for you to apologise.’

‘I don't know. I just feel an apology is all the more dramatic if it is mutual.’

Diana laughed before she cried, ‘Oh, Anne, how I've missed you!’

Two days later, the two girls were emptying Diana’s closet. Silk, chiffon and satin were draped over every surface, with ribbons and shoes laid out to match. Anne was giving Diana an ethereal crown braid after Diana had curled Anne's, now grown in after her impromptu pixie cut. All there were waiting for know was Mr Berry to announce that the carriage was ready to take them to the train station. 

While Diana and Anne  were giggling and teasing, now closer than ever;  Gilbert was making his way across the fields thick with wheat, to the house with green gables. His relationship with Anne, tenuous at best, was crumbling all because of some stupid rumour that effected him in a most impolite fashion. And, even if they were courting, would he really wish to keep it secret from even his own family? Bash, through his teasing exterior, had obviously felt let down by thinking that Gilbert hadn't told him. Even after he explained that there was nothing to be told. And to think of Matthew, who despite not wishing to go through the formalities, at least deserved the dignity of being asked . 

_ He knew that Anne would be the one to wish to keep it a secret. _

_ (But there was no secret to keep.)  _

He heard that Anne was in Charlottetown for the weekend, and took it as a chance to come clean, to explain that it was all a misunderstanding. His father had raised him to be respectful and honest, and that was just what he was going to be. He made his excuses to the LaCroixs then made his way to Green Gables. His timing was hopefully just so as to arrive slightly before they sat down for supper, so he would have an excuse to leave. What he did not, and should have expected, is that with Anne gone, the Cuthberts were more than happy to welcome a dinner guest to fill the void of excitement. 

It was Marilla who answered the door before returning to her cooking. 

‘Oh, Gilbert. Matthew is on the back porch if you wish to speak to him.’

Marilla spoke with an upright manner that did not reduce her friendly words to anything close to casual. Gilbert blushed at the very thought of what she was implying. 

‘Um, I would actually like to speak with both of you. If I could.’

‘Oh, of course. Come in. Why don’t you stay for dinner?’

‘I don’t wish to impose.’

‘Hardly. We would be glad to have you.’

With that, Matthew came in from the back door, putting out his pipe. He gave Gilbert a nod while he scrubbed his hands clean then sat across him at the table. Marilla brought out bowls of stew with a slice of bread. Gilbert dug in, feeling the warmth of the delicious food fill him up. The Cuthberts looked on admiringly. 

‘So, Gilbert, you said you had something you wished to discuss with both of us?’

‘Um, yes. It's concerning the rumours. I'm sure you've heard them.’

‘Ah, yes. And what about it.’

‘I just wished, for both your and Anne's sake, that the truth could be said. There is nothing between me and Anne besides a friendly and academic rivalry. I'd be sure to tell you if anything relating to courtship came up.’

Gilbert found it had to say that word. He delayed until he only absolutely had to. To think about such things only fogged his brain and lost him sleep. 

Marilla only nodded and pursed her lips to conceal a sly, knowing smile.

‘Well, Matthew and I thank you for your honesty.’

‘Your welcome, Miss Cuthbert.’ He lowered his head to avoid eye contact. The room already had enough unsaid. 

Matthew, who had been desperate to leave, cleared his throat and automatically gained the attention of an audience. In a low bashful tone, he mumbled something about him being the son they had hoped for and Gilbert felt a warmth bloom alongside a terrible ache. To think that Anne had tried so desperately to prove herself that first week in Avonlea, then he had ruined it by pursuing her so unrelentingly. He suddenly felt so bashful and embarrassed, not only his sake by Anne’s. He was not telling the truth for his own reputation, a man’s is not ruined by rumours of this kind, but a woman’s honour is easily tarnished. 

He could feel something new pump in his blood. A responsibility he never carried before. He never should have been so selfish. This was not about him, and it wasn't about Anne. This was about doing what was right and sticking to his values. Values he never should have forgotten. If a man’s word was worth double that of a woman’s, then he was going to make his count. Anne may not have been able to deny the courtship for fear of backlash, but he would make sure the whole of Avonlea understood the whole truth and nothing but the truth. 

At around the same time that Gilbert was saying his goodbyes and quitting Green Gables, Anne was desperately trying to catch Cole's attention as a waltz began. She had always wished to be asked by a dashing hero to dance so gracefully that it felt like floating. And, as everyone else in the room was at least fifteen years older than her, Cole was her only option for her romantic interest. If only the Avonlea school could have a dance and she could have her choice of several boys. Not like she would want to dance with any of them. Or they would want to dance with her if there were other prettier options. 

Cole had begun to approach her, overdramatic and gallant, as expected. Neither of them knew how to dance to this particular song, so they played grown-up, putting on false expressions of snobbery as they took each other's hands and exchanged bows. Laughter began to undermine their masks as they stepped on each other’s toes and bumped into other couples. They got a lot of rude looks that only made them laugh harder. 

‘I bet your wishing Gilbert Blythe was here.’

‘What? Why?’ 

‘So you could have a better dance partner. You can tell just by the way he walks that he is a good dancer.’ Cole tripped over her feet, proving his point. 

What are you talking about, Cole?’ Anne felt herself growing flustered and wanted to shut down the conversation as soon as possible. 

‘Something about the rhythm, his arm always synched to his strides. It must transfer very well into footwork.’ Cole rambled on, faking obliviousness.

‘Why must you bring Gil- that boy up?’ Anne hissed. 

‘That boy?’ Cole chuckled, but he quickly shut up when Anne stomped on his foot.

They spun silently for a moment. It seemed hopeless to attempt to move past what had been said. 

‘I wouldn't mind.’

‘Mind what?’ Cole asked, gleeful and smug. 

‘I wouldn't mind dancing with him. It would add some variation. It's all a bit tiresome, dancing with one friend for the whole evening. I very much understand the distress of Mrs Bennet when Mr Darcy refused to dance. There are hardly enough men to go round.’

‘I will admit, the pickings in Avonlea are rather bleak.’

‘Why, without you, there is hardly a boy worth my notice.’ Anne said, delighted that Cole did not continue to press her about Gilbert. 

‘Really? What about your birthday next year. Surely you must be thinking about your soulmate.’

‘Hardly. And I can promise you now, none of the boys in Avonlea is my soulmate.’ Anne doubted what she said as soon as she said it. Those words were loose in the world and there was no way she could seize them back.

‘Well, if we’re taking bets....’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER  
> Delphine is born.   
> Bash, Gilbert and Anne ponder their situations.


	14. A tale of acceptance about how Bash accepts fatherhood wholeheartedly, Anne finally accepts a Blythe orchard apple, and Gilbert accepts that patience is a virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin
> 
> Babies, apple trees, and a bit of acceptance along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoy this chapter! It's one of my favourites and one of the first sections I began writing so it holds a special place in my heart.  
> I also want to thank you so much for leaving so many kudos and comments, they are so sweet. I can't believe this story almost has 7000 reads!  
> xx

**“Together, we form a necessary paradox; not a senseless contradiction.”**

**―** **Criss Jami**

It had always been hard for Bash in a white man’s world. And Avonlea, as much as he wished for a bright future for his child, was still closed-minded like most rural villages. He wished he could blame them, but it was systemic and embedded in their way of life. They were wary of outsiders and scared of colour and change. But, when he heard the first wail of his child and rocked her in his arms, he truly felt that all his happiness was encompassed in this small cocoon of love and warmth. He would change the world so it could be a better place for her to live in, all for sweet Delphine. 

Naturally, Mary slept. Gilbert promised him that she was perfectly healthy - that boy was a wonder and practically delivered a second child all by himself - but Bash still paced back and forth down the hallways, checking on his wife and child periodically. That is until Gilbert forced him outside on grounds of disruption and general annoyance. He compelled himself to walk once, even twice around the house than up and down the rows of trees in the orchard. His mind was at rest for the first time in his adult life. He had suffered through growing up inferior in Trinidad, the degrading and inhuman treatment shovelling coal every day where people treated him like a verbal punching bag. Then, even after Gilbert gave him a home, it was months of labour to gain bearly enough profit to support them through the winter. But now, he had a family and a solid home built up around him. No matter how the town talked, insulted his family, gave pointed stares of fear and disgust, it was nothing compared to the work it took to get himself here. It was the price to pay for every other happiness. He accepted that long ago. 

He walked back over the path he had come from. Back through the orchard as his emotions distilled and flattened into acceptable shapes. Footsteps kicking through the grass and whistled through the breeze. Bash stopped to see two red braids disappear around the corner of the house. He picked up his pace towards the back door, a certain joy filling in the cracks. 

Bash burst through the side door that opened into the kitchen just as there was a knock coming from the front of the house. Gilbert looked between his friend and the door, his eyebrows furrowed before he stalked down the hall, unaware who was on the other side. This was not the first time Gilbert would see Anne on his stoop with a handful of flowers and tears in her eyes, and perhaps not the last. When his father died, and the house was all quiet, he had heard that rhythmic knocking before and he had opened it with the same confusion and uncertainty. But, as they stood facing each other, as they would forever, all he could do was grin with the happiness of seeing her freckled face again. 

‘Is Mary doing well? I do hope the baby is not harmed.’ 

‘They are both quite well. Delphine is sleeping.’ He motioned for her to come in. 

‘Delphine, a girl I presume. Oh, how joyous! No offence to your own sex, but Marilla and I had been hoping for a girl. Of course, I'm sure you had been wishing for a boy, all farmers wish so. There is always a need for more hands to aid with the chores.’ 

Gilbert had hardly a reply to Anne's ongoing words and nodded frequently to show that he was listening. It was wonderful to see her so excited, and that she was talking to him again. And although it was not necessarily directly at him, he took it as a win. 

She went quiet. ‘May I see them?’

‘Of course, Mary is trying to nurse right now but I'm sure she would love the company.’

Anne gave him an eager smile before slipping into the room, dim with the light of the sun through the curtains. Gilbert leaned against the wall as his own grin broadened. 

Later, as Anne found him again, collecting the recently chopped wood to pile against the barn, she allowed herself time to gaze at the boy she was sure she had hated. For almost two years, everything he said, everything he did, had aggravated her to the core. But in the cold peace of the winter, as a boy on the brink of being a man whistled to himself as he stooped to collect firewood, she found herself wishing that they had been friends from the beginning. 

But then he turned and the glint in his eye warned her that friendship with a boy like Gilbert Blythe would never be possible. 

She stuffed her hands in her pockets as he came nearer, yanking the gloves of his hands. He had on his red plaid jacket, and snow had collected on his shoulders that now seemed too big for his worn coat. It was in his hair too.

‘Your niece is a darling little baby.’ Anne said to break the rigid silence. 

‘My niece?’ 

Gilbert had caught up and they fell into stride as they made their way back to the house.

‘Delphine? If Bash is your brother, would that not make you her uncle?’

‘An uncle.’ he repeated, ‘After - why I never saw myself as having any family.’ A smile stretched across his face. He had no control over himself as if his heart was a hot air balloon that was floating away on just the warmth of his joy. 

‘Look, I know this is only symbolic, as these apples won’t be ready to pick for several months.’ Gilbert stooped to pick up a foot-long section of a broken branch under a nearby apple tree. ‘But Anne, will you finally accept an apple?’

It was an odd sort of gesture that looked ridiculous from afar, but neither Anne nor Gilbert made any move to perceive it as anything but sacred. 

‘As a sort of peace offering?’ 

They reached the door but made no move to go in. 

‘If you wish to see it as such.’

With that, despite a reluctant hesitation, Anne slipped her cold hand from where it was warming in her pocket and took the thin apple branch from his outstretched hand. Gilbert had the odd feeling that he was feeding a deer, and he had only just gained its trust.

‘I haven't been able to thank you enough for what you did.’

‘I was simply telling the truth.’

‘I know, but any other man would have gloated. Men seem to think that women are like trophies to be collected or achieved. To treat me like a human with equal autonomy was very gentlemanly.’ 

Anne stepped back inside. 

Gilbert ducked his head, shaking it as if to shake off the compliment as well. Heartache gnawed in his chest and his heart sunk back into his chest, plunging through the muscles and bone. _ I could tell her, and all this agonising waiting could be over.  _

It had been a year since he had returned from his voyage. One year since he met Bash, since he got his father’s letter and words on his arm. The snow was falling again, and the lead up to Christmas had the whole of Avonlea high strung in preparation. A wave of deja vu rolled over him. 

His hope rested on the year ahead and the change he hoped it would bring. 

_ Anne’s birthday was in three months.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER
> 
> Diana turns sixteen.


	15. A meditation on the disadvantages of soulmarks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana ponders her future on her birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short and lacking in action and development, but I thought that Diana's experience should be explored. It's rather cynical but quarantine has left me more than a bit melancholy, so forgive me until the fluff returns.  
> Also, this quote is not quite perfect, but it captures the feeling of the imperfections of love, to I kept it.

“Roses," she thought sardonically, "All trash, m’dear.”

―  **Virginia Woolf,** **Mrs Dalloway**

  
  


On an otherwise ordinary Thursday in February, Diana Berry turned sixteen. She was the oldest girl in her class, Prissy now graduated, and the burden of turning sixteen first fell hard upon her shoulders. She would be the first to get her soul mark. The words that would decide her future. All the other girls were scared, but Diana knew that there was nothing to be afraid of. She was not as romantic as Ruby or as imaginative as Anne, so these words bore no significance until they were spoken aloud. It only became frightening once that happened. 

What if her soulmate was someone that her parents don't approve of? What if they are someone so perfect that she hardly feels worthy? What if it is one of the schoolboys that she grew up along, that she thinks of as brothers? Her heart tells her that a soulmate is a soulmate no matter what, but her mind refuses to surrender its anxieties. 

Her parents do not mention it over breakfast and she is sure that this will be an after dinner discussion without Minnie May or the servants present. And that's almost more daunting than the words themselves. Her heritage and family gives her enormous privilege, but also the realisation that soulmates are a pesky thing that threatens the fab work of society and the important alliances between families. That prospect is not good enough in the past and Diana knows that her love story will not be easy. Not if her parents have anything to do with it. She will be expected to marry into a well off family of a similar class. Her childhood in Avonlea must be forgotten once she is sent off to finishing school. 

She arrives at school with this realization and she clings to her childhood with a grasp so strong it is choking. It suffocates her, the future and the burdens she must carry. She won't sit the exams with her friends, she won't experience the world alongside them. She has until summer to soak up all the joy she can. 

She joins the girls around the creek, placing her milk bottle alongside theirs. 

‘Happy birthday!’ They call, bring her into an endless hug. Diana finds comfort in their wholesomeness, it's a welcome distraction from the thoughts in her head. 

Arm in arm, Anne and Diana walk into the schoolhouse, both giddy on the new chapter ahead of both of them. Today is also the first day of the extra study group for the intended Queens students, which has the oldest students anxious. It signifies a huge step into a future they are not prepared for but recognise they must accept. Life always continues. 

Diana hardly pays any attention to the lessons. It has nothing to do with what Miss Stacey was teaching, in fact, Diana wanted very much to focus, but her thoughts were spiralling in new directions every minute and half her energy was dedicated to thwarting unwanted tangents. She blocked out guessing who her soulmate maybe and only entertained imagining how the words would be spoken for a minute before she shut it out. 

It was over lunch that Anne convinced her bosom friend to join the others after school study group. Diana’s parents had maintained their decision that Diana was going to graduate from a finishing school in Paris, but Diana longed not solely for education but friendship. She was going to be shipped away far from everything and everyone she loved. It didn't take much convincing to get her to stay. 

While the younger students filed out, the oldest remained in their seats, chatting amongst themselves as Miss Stacey organized herself at the front. Diana sat patiently next to her friend, trying not to let her reluctance show. But Anne was far more busy staring off into space, and a one Gilbert Blythe was staring at her far more than Diana was. 

Diana’s heart jolted at the fond look he gave Anne when she wasn't looking. She knew that her romantic endeavours would never be as easy as her friends would be. In a month, Anne’s soulmark would appear and swiftly she would realize that her soulmate had been sitting across the aisle in the same classroom the entire time. But Diana knew it would not be the same for her. 

Soon, she will find herself believing that Jerry may be her soulmate. Whether that is true or simply conjecture cannot be determined quite yet. All that is certain, is that its eventual end only increases Diana’s view that her position is a precarious one. She may think that love can conquer everything, but in practicality, it is not love that determines anything, but whether she thinks it is deserving enough to be put above all else. And often, that it is not the case. 

Diana Berry could lead two lives. One where she marries a man, her soulmate or not, that provides her affection and the same lifestyle that her parents afforded her. Or she can run away with a stable boy and spend the rest of her life deciding if it was worth it. 

Soulmarks are not the end of every story. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER  
> Season three begins!


	16. The one where Anne again proves that she should win a prize for her denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne's soul mark makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are now only seven chapters left, including the epilogue. They will be released every week for the next month and a half. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this incredible journey, I could not continue without the wonderful comments and kudos form such lovely readers. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy my interpretation of season three!

**_"For a moment Anne's heart fluttered queerly and for the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert's gaze and a rosy flush stained the paleness of her face. It was as if a veil that had hung before her inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her view a revelation of unsuspected feelings and realities."_ **

**_—_ ** **_L.M. Montgomery_ ** **,** **_Anne of Avonlea_ **

Cordelia, in Anne’s dreams, had a mark whose magical words changed to whatever mood Anne desired. Sometimes it was poetic and romantic, a confession so sweet she felt faint. 

Other times it was a tragic deathbed confession, heart wrenching and passionate to the core. This made up for Anne’s acceptance that she might never have words of her own that crawled their way across another. And thus, waking up on her sixteenth birthday would be a turning point when her future changed for better or worse. 

At the orphanage, the older girls on their sixteenth birthday would profess how they would get married and be whisked away from the darkness of the orphanage into a life in the light. They would have children of their own that would have loving homes. But it was just a pipe dream. Years passed and the girls that once had a chance at escape now only had far off dreams. They stayed stuck at the orphanage scrubbing floors. Their so-called soulmates were con men who tricked them into situations much like their mothers. Pregnant and all alone in the world. 

It was with this reality that Anne awoke on the day of her sixteen years on earth. A decade and a half ago, her mother held her in her arms. Every birthday before this one had been celebrated with grief, but this one held endless possibilities. She sat up, pausing for a moment before pulling back her sleeve. 

It was blank. 

Anne’s stomach did an executing dip as she realised that she had no soulmate. There would be no one to love her. No one ever will. Her cries of agony brought Marilla running down the hall. 

‘Oh, Anne. What is it?.’

‘It's not here.’ Anne cried, hyperventilating. ‘The words, they're not here.’ 

‘Not where? Where did you think it was going to be?

‘Gilbert’s is on his forearm. Diana’s is too. What if I don’t have one?’

‘Anne, calm yourself. Did I not tell you that my words are on my calf? They are often found in different, more interesting places. Now if you don't wish to be late for school, I suggest you hurry up.’

Anne, still in just her shift, spun and shifted in front of her mirror, trying to find the place the mark could be hiding. She found it, under her collarbone, and close to her shoulder. Sitting close to her heart. She read it backwards in the mirror.

It was a question. It puzzled her and the dashes offered a reading that unsettled her. Spelling was associated very strongly with one person. And the context implied a rough past. It all pointed to one Gilbert Blythe. But that boy meant nothing to her. He is a family friend she is friendly with when need be. A truce means peace, it meant putting up with him and his aggravating ways, it did not mean sudden affection. 

Anne inhaled a sharp breath, biting her lip and squeezing her eyes, her body tensed. Then she exhaled just as sharply, opening her eyes and steeling herself for the day before her. She has been through worse, and she will go through worse again. She will be happy. 

The words could have been wrong, couldn't they?

Marilla was waiting, hands propped up and clasped prayer-like in front of her downturned head. Anne slipped into her seat opposite, knowing that alongside this demeanour came a lecture. 

‘What is it, Marilla?’

‘You found your mark?’

Anne nodded, hoping she didn't know where this conversation was going. 

‘I remember my sixteenth as if it were yesterday.’ She said through tight lips. ‘I knew who he was almost as soon as I read the words. And when he said them my whole body quivered. I will not say I was complete, but it felt as close to heaven as a person still on earth may attain.’

Anne stared down at her plate. Her usual curiosity silenced by the emotional weight Marilla was unloading across the breakfast table. In any other circumstance, she would have thought something horrible had happened. 

‘But I never said his words. My brother died before I could. And then I had Matthew and the farm, and he gradually grew away. Anne, I don't regret the life that brought me to you, but I regret not at least giving myself the chance to believe that I could have another.’

Marilla lifted her bowed head to glance at the clock. ‘Oh, Anne you haven't even eaten yet. You are going to be late if you don't hurry.’

Marilla reverted back to her usual self, and the events prior were silently forgotten. Anne made her way to school, hoping against hope that love would find her before it is too late. 

Gilbert, now with the year well into March, was realising that time was limited. For almost two years, he had seen Anne every school day and had seemingly infinite time. But now, with only months before the Queen’s exams, there were diminishing prospects. However, hope was given one afternoon. 

‘Um, Gilbert?’

He turned to see Anne making her way towards him. His heart rate quickened at the tone of her voice. She was cautious as she spoke. 

‘Well, um, we both know that as it is our last year of school, people are beginning to get their soul marks. Y-you already have yours of course.’

Gilbert gave her a nervous nod. 

‘And, well, surely if you knew who your soulmate is…’ Anne glanced over at Ruby, who stood anxious by her desk next to Diana and Tilly. ‘You should tell them.’

‘You're saying this, why?’ Gilbert asked, scared that what Anne was saying was too good to be true. 

‘It’s just that Ruby-’

‘Ruby?’

With that, the girl in question, ears burning, ran past them out the door. The other girls hurried after her. Gilbert looked on bewildered. 

‘I’m sorry, Gilbert, she put me up to it.’ 

‘Oh, yeah, course.’ Gilbert mumbled, feeling completely betrayed by his own desires. ‘Its okay, Anne, you meant well.’ 

Anne gave him a gracious smile then exited the schoolhouse. He could see through the window the group of friends comforting Ruby, and Gilbert collapsed, utterly defeated, behind his desk. 

The day didn't get much better from there. 

After lunch, Anne leaned across the aisle to ask if he had a pen. He felt his heartbeat through from the soles of his feet to the tips of his fingers. Just that word sends him reeling. He did not notice that she had already asked most of her friends before him. But it didn't matter. 

He gave it to her without question. 

Then, when he finally felt safe in his sanctuary at home, with Delphine’s giggles and Mary's reassuring smile, Bash had to announce that they were going to Green Gables to celebrate Anne's birthday. Gilbert grinned at the delightful smirk and clap on the back that Bash gave him as they left the farm behind. 

That evening, Anne couldn't help catching a rustle of hushed conversation amongst the grownups while Anne played with Delphine perched on her lap. Anne focused her attention on Delphine, and the dark curls that twisted out of a prim bonnet. She rocked and giggled at the funny faces Anne made. Gilbert caught her mid tongue out, and Anne narrowed her eyes in his direction. She stopped after that. 

Sometimes, in the bouts of silence that came between them, Gilbert had a very sudden and overwhelming urge to comply with Anne’s statement. He could tell her. He could finally allow the truth to see the light. 

But he never does. It seems he is too much of a coward for words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER  
> Gilbert meets Winnie and has conflicting feelings about his soul mark


	17. In which we all lose faith in Gilbert very quickly and without a second thought (then quickly feel pity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert contemplates his life when confronted by his differences with Winnie and Mary's death.

**“He was swimming in a sea of other people’s expectations. Men had drowned in seas like that.”**

**―** **Robert Jordan,** **New Spring**

It may be hard to understand Gilbert's choice to forsake his relationship with Anne, but one must remember that it is easier to lie to yourself than others. Our memories are fragile things. The more we invent the less we remember what is true. Gilbert had spent two years waiting for Anne to come running into his arms, and it never happened. So, when a woman who was conventional and pretty and who showed him attention came along, he could hardly reject her. Besides, Winnie was nice. Nice in a way that grew tiresome. She knew every precise part of etiquette and practised it accordingly. Forcing Gilbert, a farm boy who had never taken a young woman to tea before (at least properly), to learn a lot in a short space of time. 

Her dedication to polite society was a great contrast to his life in Avonlea. Saturdays were filled with paperwork and strict respectability, while his weekdays at school contained Anne’s wild spirit and Miss Stacey’s unconventional lesson plans. He felt he was two different people living two very different lives. 

Gilbert sat in the tranquil and prim tea house and watched the tea leaves in his cup swirl into his fate. The lace pattern of the doilies resembled the clumps of his future forming with each sip. It was lukewarm at that point, but the sweetness was reassuring. On the steamboat, the only way to swallow the bitter coffee or tea they had on board was with spoonfuls of sugar, which was hard to come by. He gulped it down, mostly to get it over with. 

Winnifred cleared her throat and gave him a pointed look. He placed the cup back down in the matching saucer. 

‘How have your parents been this past week?’ Gilbert asked, not knowing what else to say to fill the growing void of conversation. 

‘Well, my mother hosted another of her ladies book club luncheons, and my father recently acquired a new investor from Boston. All is very well in my life.’ 

Gilbert thought back to the three points of the fence that needed fixing, his essay on the war of 1812, and the debt that needed paying to the bank from a loan for more modern farm equipment. Plus the ongoing, very frustrating, arrangements to make Bash his official business partner. He found it hard to relate his life to Winnifred’s. 

‘How has your week been, Mr Blythe?’ 

‘Quite ordinary.’

‘Oh, you must give me more. The apples are near harvest are they not?’ 

‘Well, in September.’

‘Oh how silly of me. Why, it is only April, they must still be only in bloom.‘

Her giggles were the only sound that registered in his ears. It was a pretty sound that made him feel seasick. 

‘Well, do you have any plans for the upcoming week? I myself am having a new dress made up and the final fitting is on Tuesday.’

That week, Mary Lacroix died due to infection. She was dead before the next Saturday. The Saturday after that was the funeral. Gilbert only saw Winnifred twice after that. Once to end the relationship, once accidentally on the street. All they exchanged were polite but cold hellos.

(Winnie’s dress turned out lovely)

Mary’s death came as a shock to everyone, but Gilbert carried the burden of guilt. He felt responsible for not treating her wound correctly, not catching the signs quick enough. While Sebastian mourned alone, Gilbert’s stubbornness compelled him to leave the farmhouse behind. 

He found himself marching across a crop field with Anne struggling to catch up. The winter was only beginning to lessen its grip in the island, with spring squeezing every ounce of warmth from the bright sun high in the sky. It should have been a calm, placid, ordinary day. Now it never would be. This month would forever be tainted with loss and inadequacy. 

If he had any inclination to pause and allow Anne to catch up, he did not act on it. 

His words to her were harsh when he did pause, but she did not display any resentment. He would have thanked her if he had any ounce of energy left. The world was pressing down on him, his back was hunched and laden with expectations of his own and others. There was Winnie, who was lovely and perfect and who he must not soil with the truth of his situation. Then there was his schooling and Anne's ever-present antagonism while he tried desperately to prove himself. And Bash, with sweet Delphine, who he would not dare abandon, no matter how much he wished to run away and work on a steamboat again. He was the golden boy of Avonlea, adored by mothers, who all fathers were proud of. He had so many people that he could disappoint. 

It had been harder to return to Avonlea than it had been to leave. 

Gilbert thought he had abandoned Anne in the field a while back, but here she came, creeping up beside him just as he was about to crumble. The land he owned, with the sturdy grey stone house, all the curtains closed and the heavy door firmly shut. It all became too much. He had disappointed everyone he cared about. Delphine would grow up without a mother, and like his father, Bash was left a widower. 

_ He could have done something. _ That was his only thought for days, and it made for horrible company. 

Anne found it hard to leave Gilbert in this state. She had never seen a person of the opposite sex over the age of say five cry and at first, she experienced an uncomfortable awareness of the emotional distance between herself and Gilbert. His demeanour was not good-natured or affronting, but hollow and strained. He was having an inner duel between his conscious and his heart. A charge of sympathy engulfed Anne, a sentiment that directed itself into a brazen act of affection. 

She moved to face him and gathered his body into her outstretched arms. He sagged into her, the warmth and comfort her drew from her slight frame pressing into his. His emotions dissipated, calming, seeping through their points of contact until the heartbreak was equalised. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER  
> The Fair comes to Avonlea and there are several references to Pride and Prejudice.


	18. In which a day at the fair quickly turns to a rewrite of Pride and Prejudice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne and Gilbert have a heated argument + Winnie does not attend the fair = A passionate, tragically romantic dance

**“Let no man pull you so low as to hate him.”**

**―** **Martin Luther King Jr**

Ruby had once told Anne that when a boy has romantic feelings for a girl, his feet point directly at her. Anne only remembered because for an entire week Ruby had let out barely muffled shrieks whenever Gilbert's shoes even vaguely faced her general area. Never mind the fact that most days they pointed straight ahead to where he was focusing on the blackboard, and it was safe to say he was not in love with either Mr Philips or Miss Stacey. But now, with an endless row of lit-up hearts called the Tunnel of Love, and Gilbert's gaze and feet pointing penetratingly at her, it seemed an overwhelming possibility that Ruby was right. 

‘Anne.’ Gilbert said softly. He sounded just as faltering as she was. 

Anne could feel a trembling shoot up her body to where she was biting back tears. Not moments before, she had learned that Gilbert had not invited Winifred Rose to join him at the fair, and that her cake that was sure to win the top prize for the decoration alone contained liliment. And then Gilbert had chased after her and the tip of his shoes stared menacingly in her direction. This is not how she expected the day to go. 

‘Gilbert.’

It was all she could say, with a bitterness balanced by giving in. She remained standing across from him. Her shoes pointed back at his. Her eyeline flicked back and forth between him and their surroundings. 

‘That cake looked delicious, Anne.’

‘If only it didn't contain liliment.’ Anne replied. It was supposed to be a self-deprecating comment but she couldn't help smiling when she heard Gilbert's low huffy chuckle. It was better to laugh than admit defeat. 

‘It was an easy mistake.’ He assured her. 

‘And have you ever confused vanilla for liliment?’

‘I cannot say I have.’ Gilbert conceited. His attempts to praise her were landing on deaf ears. 

‘It's not my fault that they looked exactly the same. Or that I had a cold and couldn't smell.’

‘I'm sure it would win for presentation alone.’

‘Thanks, Gilbert.’ Anne crossed her arms and allowed her gaze to flutter. ‘You may not be as aggravating as you sometimes seem.’

‘High praise coming from you.’

‘Don't take this to be a victory. I still find you intolerable most of the time.’ 

‘Is that so?’ Gilbert cocked an eyebrow. 

‘Right there!’ Anne exclaimed. ‘As snarky and arrogant as always.’

‘Arrogant?’ Gilbert asked, amused.

‘Yes, and boastful, insulting, and indifferent of feeling.’

‘Let me take a guess, you've been reading Pride And Prejudice again?’ It was no more a question than an accusation. 

‘Why yes...’ She acknowledged reluctantly. 

‘Shall I remind you how it ends.’ 

‘Are you implying what I think you’re implying?’ Anne glared defiantly back at Gilbert’s dark eyes gleaming with brazenness. 

‘I just don't think that your first impressions are always the best. You wouldn't want your prejudice to get in the way.’

‘In the way of what, Gilbert?’

‘What is right in front of you of course.’

With that cypher, Gilbert stalked off. It could be assumed at the beginning of their conversation that it would be Anne to perform this act. It only aggravated her further, on top of what he said. He just proved her view of him even more. To think that weeks ago she had hugged him while he cried over the loss of Mary, seeing how unappreciative he was acting now. 

Anne ran after him. But as soon as she caught up to him and stumbled to his side, he forced his arm out. But it was too late, she had already seen what he had been trying to protect her from. Her best friend, her first ever kindred spirit, kissing Jerry the farmhand. 

Complete betrayal, that is what it was. To have not told her, to have not even confessed that it may be a possibility. And with Jerry of all people, that annoying rascal whose presence only pointed out her own failings. They had wanted a son, and she was not one. 

Anne yanked Gilbert away, but not before Diana noticed their presence. 

She looked ashamed. 

Gilbert had not invited Winnie to the fair. And how could he, when reality had slapped him sharply across the face only last week? They had danced, and Gilbert had felt himself slip once again under Anne’s spell. That is why tonight, instead of purposely messing up the steps, he asked her outright. 

Anne could hear the muttering of the rest of Avonlea once they took each other's hands and stood up together. The gossip of their courtship had not completely subsided, despite the widely circulated truth that no such thing had occurred. They were the most beloved couple of Avonlea after William Horrow’s son married the minister’s daughter last year. That was the last love match that had seized the hearts of Avonlea, and the town was growing anxious for another. 

Gilbert stood across from her, but the music started soon enough and he gradually danced away to the beat of the band. The strings evoked a romantic dreamy quality, but the hard bass of the drums and blaring brass instruments had Anne falling easily into the rhythm. 

She felt like Elizabeth Bennet, dancing with Mr Darcy. Except Gilbert seemed much more eager than Darcy ever could. He had a wide smile on his face whenever they runited to lock arms and swing around before splitting off again. His eyes were disconcerting, boring into her, evoking confusing feelings she desperately tried to suppress. Perhaps he felt it too, this pull between them. The words of the psychic woman came back to her,  _ when he looks at you his eyes overflow,  _ and it seemed an apt description. She was dizzy and breathless, cheeks flushed, by the end. She looked up to see Gilbert in very much the same state.

She offered him an awkward curtsy before she scurried away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER  
> Finally, some soul marks are revealed.


	19. In which Anne is impulsive, Gilbert is momentarily shocked, and it all leads to more misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soul marks are spoke, but nothing is resolved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit shorter chapter, but it's the moment we've all been waiting for!

**_"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundations. it is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun"_ **

**_—_ ** **_Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice_**

The moon hung heavy over them. A spotlight that cast a crisp shadow beyond Anne as she crept out and sat on Miss Stacey’s porch. Gilbert, who had been eyeing the redhead all night, slipped out behind her. His footsteps thudded and creaked as he got closer and sat beside her, gazing up at the stars. They hardly needed words to express how they were feeling, the silence spoke enough. 

It was peace, finally achieved after three years of hardship.

‘You sure pulled that off.’ Gilbert uttered into the vast unknown before them. 

‘We did.’ Anne replied. ‘What in the world did you say to our class to make them change their minds about me?’ 

‘I reminded them that you always find a way to make things right.’

‘Historical precedent would suggest otherwise.’

They both chuckle. Their smiles never seem to fade from their faces as they steal glances. 

‘Speaking of which, shouldn't we be arguing about something right now?’ Anne asked, glancing down and fidgeting with the glass of liquid still in her hand. 

‘Probably.’ Gilbert replied with an amused nod of his head. ‘You want to start?’ 

‘I can't think of anything.’

‘Me neither.’

‘Huh.’ Is all Anne could say. The stars opened up around them and the trees whistled softly in the evening breeze. For the first time, in many years, Anne wholeheartedly believed that she and Gilbert were friends. 

**‘After all these years who knew we'd make such a good T-E-A-M?’**

She pauses. No other words in the entire English language could ever evoke so many turbulent feelings inside of her. Her blood thumps faster, in her ear and through her heart, circling a heavy warmth followed by a frigid tremble. Everywhere is cracking and tingling. The world collapses in on them.

In the romance books, Anne has read numerous times, a kiss is a life-changing moment where two people become one. Instead, Anne feels her identity come into focus sharper than ever before. She senses the outline of her body as it aligns itself against the outline of Gilbert’s. There is no electricity as she nears him. There is no desperate look. She simply plants her lips on his and hopes for the best. It is the only thing she can think to do

And it is over quicker than expected. There is a soft brush that is just enough of a shock to get Anne to pull away before Gilbert can react. It is a blip that passes over into the next moment. They are back to being thirteen, back to when they bickered and everything was a competition. There is that same fierce confusion that engulfs them both. Gilbert is dazed. And it only worsens when Anne speaks. 

‘Oh, but Winifred- ’ She says as she bounds up. Smoothing her skirt in desperate nerves. For an unknown reason, tears are slipping down her cheeks. Neither can process what occurred. 

‘Anne, what… I- ’ He is left dumbfounded, his mouth unable to unscramble his thoughts. 

‘Look, I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again. I shouldn’t have - I’m sorry.’ She’s sobbing now. With utter hatred and mortification that throbs in her temples and burns in her cheeks. 

‘Anne!’ He carelessly reaches for her. To wipe the tears. To hold her hand. To pull her back close and finish what was left undone. 

‘No, Gilbert. You are essentially engaged. I will not allow you to do this to her. I will not allow myself to be your paramour. You must be happy with her.’ She says in the strongest voice she can muster. But all the force is lost to the hiccups as she gulps down the air through her crying. The lines her tears left sting as she runs back inside. 

Gilbert is left in the dark that closes in on him. 

He walks the entire way home, torturing himself with the chill and the clouded sky. 

Gilbert doesn't sleep that night. And neither does Anne. She tosses and turns until the sun gives her excuse enough to rise for breakfast. Waiting until the first possible moment she can leave Green Gables, she furiously makes her way to the Barry’s house. Past the lake of shining waters and the haunted forest. 

The events of last night claw at her heart. 

Anne collapses on her friend's bed, frustrated and furious at herself and the world. Diana perches by her side, asking what is wrong. Anne, with her braids falling out, only looks on anxiously as Diana folds her dresses. 

‘I kissed him, Diana, could you ever possibly think of anything more mortifying.’

‘Gilbert?’ Diana asks. Anne nods her head, her hands come over her face in embarrassment. 

‘Why?’

Diana is scandalously curious but Anne only groans at the insinuating tone. 

‘He’s my soulmate.’ Anne grits into the pillow. She has flipped and is now on her stomach, hiding her telltale blush into the plush satin covered pillow on Diana's bed. 

‘What? He said the words?’ Anne is forced to nod again. 

‘Really? Anne!’ 

‘I've ruined everything. He will be so disgusted with me that he won't ever speak to me again. Not that I would want him to, with that condescending tone of utter arrogance. I hate Gilbert Blythe and I don't know why fate has cursed me to have his words forever on my skin.’

‘Anne, you are being dramatic. Obviously you do not hate him, how could you? He does not hate you in return. And I'm sure he is feeling just as confused and frustrated as you are.’

‘Of course, he is! I abandoned him, only after telling him that he should be with Winifred Rose instead. My life is ruined.’ Anne sits up, hugging the pillow to her chest as Diana hugs her from the side. ‘I always put my foot in it with Gilbert. Always.’ 

She stares wistfully out the window as if she could clear away all the misunderstandings, all the hate and competition, all the relentless teasing and looks of disgust. And beyond that, as she looks beyond the trees towards the skyline, would be happiness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER  
> Winnie and Gilbert must come to grips with Anne's actions.


	20. The ballad of Winnifred Rose and why she deserves more than she got in life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winnie makes her escape to France, hoping to leave the past behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end folks! There are just two more chapters then the epilogue...  
> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments, you are all so sweet.

**“Heart, we will forget him,**

**You and I, tonight!**

**You must forget the warmth he gave,**

**I will forget the light.”**

**―** **Emily Dickinson**

Winnifred Rose could, with absolute certainty, call that day one of the worst in her life. In one fell swoop, her reputation was called into question, she had embarrassed her parents, and lost someone she thought she might one day come to love. All she could do was flee to Paris. 

His words still haunted her, coming back to taunt and torment her broken heart. Perhaps it wasn’t  _ broken, _ more rumpled and troubled, dragged through the dirt while Gilbert fought an internal war with his love for another. Had he known the whole time? Every tea, every meeting with her parents, every Saturday at Dr Wards, was Anne on his mind?

She should have known after he didn’t invite her to that village fair that it was over and done with. She should have accepted that long ago. She had never believed in the concept of soulmates, they seemed unrealistic and got in the way far too much than necessary, they upset the order that society thrived on. Those words had no business dictating her life. Some may call her cold, but she simply believed she was being practical.

Gilbert had been promising. She had always known that marriage was built on connections and that Gilbert would greatly profit from studying at the Sorbonne and the opportunities her father could open up to him. That was how she reasoned with herself that it was all his loss. And she, well she was a pawn to be played and now she realised how much it hurt to be used. At least he had attempted to be gentle and clear with his reasoning - he was in love with another. That he had known that she was not his soulmate.

What a cad! 

To learn, that after all this time, he had been spending his days mooning after a girl brash enough to kiss him outwardly like that. Well, they sure do make a pair. A cheat and a liar in love with a plain orphan. They deserve each other, Winnie thought with jealous disgust. But as much as she attempted to stay stoic and prove that she was the better person, her tears were evidence of how hurt she truly was inside. 

She folded her new dress carefully. She had only worn it twice. The next time would be in Paris, where she would never see Gilbert Blythe again. Next goes a pair of stockings and her favourite ribbons, tied up safe in a special pouch. Her mother brought down all the hat boxes and she contemplates which box would be best suited for which hat in an attempt to block out the world that she doesn't wish to face yet. She had always been one to move on quickly. If things must change, then they should move as swiftly and bluntly as possible. She no longer wrote to any of her friends from boarding school, they were in the past now. 

This was just another reason people may call her cold or callous. And once again, she would call herself practical. As with soulmates, there is no room for frivolous feelings or sentimentality. Unfortunately, Gilbert had made her break both those rules. She had gotten emotionally attached. Not to him, but the image of him. The idea of someone to trust and to share her life with. And now she was getting sentimental over it. 

She shoved her dresses further down into the trunk, making way for books, letter paper and her notebooks. She placed a bunch of lavender on top of the cloth than slammed the lid closed. She wanted it to signify the end of her life on the island, but it only made her cry harder. 

Gilbert had been wrong all this time. He had almost become his father, married to a woman that he admired tremendously - but wasn’t the  _ one. _ And to think he had known all along that he belonged with her, with his Anne. Anne with an E. Standing on Winnie’s stoop, walking down the steps, away from the looming past encased in the early Victorian brick mansion, a different weight settled on his shoulders. Although he was freeing himself of his relationship with Winnifred Rose, Anne still posed an object of anxiety. 

What did she think of him? 

The moment they shared, that kiss hung heavy in his consciousness. Its implications were promising, yet the reality of the situation was threatening. His dreams for the past two years were coming true, so why was he so scared? Perhaps it was because she still hadn’t asked the question that changed the future completely. 

Gilbert relied so heavily on those words, he almost completely forgot that Anne Shirley Cuthbert, the girl he had been admiring since he was fifteen, had kissed him on the lips. 

Winnie sat in the first-class parlour, on one of the plush chairs that were angled towards the window. In her lap was a letter, one she should have ripped up and burned as soon as she read it. Or even before she read it. Not only was it taboo for a couple courting (or whatever she and Gilbert had been) to exchange such discreet correspondence, but she had promised herself that she would no longer entertain the idea of him. There was no point, she would never see him again. But her curiosity had gotten the better of her. As soon as the maid slipped it to her as she made her way to the carriage for the last time, it had burned in her pocket. Metaphorically of course; she had stowed it away in her handbag. 

There was something tragically poetic about the circumstances. She had found herself in the role every romantic detested: the woman who got in the way, who interfered in the union of the couple they had all been rooting for. And now she felt the same way about herself. This was not her love story, and it never would. 

In a week, after the letter is properly destroyed and most of the phrasing melts from her memory, she will write him her first and last letter. But for now, she focused her eyes on the horizon where the blue of the sea met the blue of the sky. The boat pulled away from the harbour and soon the mainland was gone. The tea in her teacup sloshed as the waves beat against the sides. 

She must become accustomed to the rocking. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER  
> Ruby interferes and sets in motion two heartbreaking realizations.


	21. In which Ruby, the one who had opposed them all along, might be the one to finally bring Anne and Gilbert together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second to last, when realisations are made but not yet acted upon.

**“If you love deeply, you're going to get hurt badly. But it's still worth it.”**

**―** **C.S. Lewis**

Gilbert realised what he had done in a big open field where all he wanted to do was scream so loud it would scare the birds out of the trees for miles around. The repercussions of his foolery, his obliviousness, shot his nerves with intense damning regret. He swore into the wind and watched it be carried out to sea. The cliffs jutted out and he could hardly see the beach below. He was stoic, but inside a destructive, raw emotion he couldn't label tore him apart. He hated himself and all the wrong moves he took. He hated the island, how small it was, yet how open the barren fields were. Deceptively everlasting. Now he was stuck at the end, only the ocean left in front of him. He had nowhere to go but back. Back to the island, back to Avonlea and Anne, and all that he held dear. 

Strange invisible lines tied him to the spot. A panicked joy burned up his throat. His feet ached. But the rush of the currents and the sharp seizing wind was physical enough to suck him down and out across the great blue expanse of water. At long last, he turned and began his trek back to the farmhouse drenched with memories and failures. But also hope. 

  
  


_ They had spent the afternoon at Miss Stacey’s, preparing for the Queens exams. When Anne burst through the door, after running most of the way, there was only one spot left. On Miss Stacey’s trunk, next to Gilbert.  _

_ Gilbert was avoiding her. Anne was terrified that she had ruined everything.  _

_ He graciously kept his head down, focused on math, or perhaps it was science. Anne was glad it was not English or history, or he would ask her questions that only she had the answer to. Now the next play was her’s. She had the chance to initiate a conversation. This is what they have resorted to, endless mind games. _

_ But when they did talk, it felt like Anne was having a conversation with herself. Although her words were cautious and they strayed further than comfortable into complex topics, there was never that awkward moment that they both anticipated. Every thought she put forward was made better by Gilbert’s replies, and gradually they no longer seemed to be the same end of a magnet fighting to repel. They each hardly had time to consider the past, not when the present flowed so naturally and with such conviction, not when their passionate aspirations were such a hearty conversation.  _

_ That is, until Jane interrupted.  _

_ ‘Tell her to focus Anne!’ She exclaimed with a huff, pointing at Ruby sulking in tow. ‘The exams are tomorrow and all she can do is turn geometric shapes into hearts.’ _

_ Anne looked up while Gilbert buried his nose deeper into his studying, hoping to keep himself out of whatever drama was happening. It didn't last long.  _

_ ‘Who says being romantic is any less respectable than being studious? Ask Gilbert, he's the most studious and he’s romantic.’ Ruby answered, forcing Gilbert to be drawn in.  _

_ Anne looked startled and distressed, whether at Gilbert being called more studious than her or romantic, it’s hard to tell. But it's the romance that she latched onto while Gilbert once again tried to ignore the problem, hoping that it would simply go away if he didn't acknowledge it ever existed. Yet a part of him swelled at Ruby’s complement and Anne’s reply: _

_ ‘Well, we’re not being romantic,’ Anne said with a start, ‘There’s nowhere else-’ _

_ But she was interrupted before she could finish the sentence that was sure to dig her into her own grave. _

_ ‘Not you, Anne, Winnifred.’ Ruby replied emphatically. _

_ Tilly and Jose, sat kitty-corner, immediately gushed, obviously taken with Gilbert’s romantic side. He remained quiet even as some of the boys started muttering, although he removed his focus from the book in his hands. It was not until Tilly asked when he would see her again, and after Anne muttered ‘so beautiful…’ in response to Ruby’s affronting question, that he decided to end the dramatic irony that only he understood.  _

_ ‘No, I don’t think I will see her again.’ He hoped that that was concise and short enough.  _

_ His classmates looked on with awe, Anne staring blankly at the work in front of her, not daring to look at anything else. Waves of confusion and relief slinked into her thoughts. She noticed a couple glances her way but remained closed off. She took a deep breath, hoping it calmed her nerves. _

_ He fiddled with her pen, tapping it against the page, scribbling notes. He had asked earlier to borrow it, and she felt a certain part of herself inhabited the space. It was beautifully crafted, no longer simply a possession, but a gift to last a lifetime full of letters. She felt content knowing that Gilbert was keeping it safe. _

_ Thankfully, after a sweep of hushed gossip and Miss Stacey reminding them to return to work, the novelty of the situation, along with the unease it created between Anne and Gilbert for whom the mention of Winifred had immediately brought forward thoughts of a moment shared only days before, disappeared.  _

Anne realized in much the same way as Gilbert. It began with a faint familiarity, that bloomed into an intense regret. She felt the phantom pen in her hand, and the piece of her it carried with it. It called to her, in the wind that rattled her window and the singing of the birds. The entire island surged around her. But not one single leaf, pretty flower petal or wing of a ladybug mattered anymore. There was only one soul that she yearned for, only two kilometres away as the crow flies. She could see the farm from the roof of Green Gables, pointing out through the layers of trees. Calling for her.

Her entire body shook, and quivered, overcome by nervousness. The anticipation, the apprehension that flooded her system, drowning her in hope and impatience. She wanted to open her mouth and allow all her thoughts and emotions to flow out of her. Out into the wind and away from the island which threatened to close in on her. She needed someone else to understand. 

There was only one person who could. 

Anne left Green Gables behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER  
> A pen  
> Seven words  
> One final chapter


	22. Wherein Anne speaks a prophecy and Bash reprises his role as the all knowing lie detector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end, finally, when confessions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait to post this chapter. I hope you like it!

**** **_"I don't want sunbursts or marble halls, I just want you."_ **

**_—_ ** **_L.M. Montgomery_ ** ****

Anne stood, pausing to let the anxiety settle, on Gilbert's doorstep. 

Anne knew the exact words she was going to say to him for she had read them two years prior, when the significance had escaped her. 

She stood on his doorstep holding a bunch of wildflowers, facing a door she had knocked on dozens of times. She was weightless and more scared than she had ever been in her entire life. As it is pulled open, his curly-haired head peaked out and her stomach sunk further down into itself. He saw in her eyes that she was struggling. The very act of her coming here, to rap her knuckles against his front door after all that they had been through, told him everything, even before she spoke. 

**‘May I please have my pen back?’**

The full weight of her words threatens to knock them both flat. 

It was easy to ignore a soul mark when the words hadn't been spoken. It was even easier when it was you had not spoken them. Others words may be confused, but your own are deliberate. Anne’s brain had seemingly been wiped clean of the words on Gilbert's arm, that is until she spoke them. 

Now all that separates them is an open door frame. The miles between them collapse in on themselves, creating a vacuum that pulls them closer. His feet move him through the doorway towards her.  _ She is here, and she is beautiful, and she is all that matters. _ Her lips tremble and he kisses it away with a swell of earnest devotion. She yanks him down to her and he follows the path of her lips as her back arches, his arms double over themselves clutching her tight, pressing every inch together. She’s dizzy with the feeling of love that consumes her. The fuzzy feeling of his lips on hers that night had never left, as she, in the darkness of her bedroom, brushed them and replayed the tragedy. Now, in the moment, she thinks of nothing else but the movement of her lips and the path of her hands up his neck to nestle in his hair. The other drapes over his shoulder, still clutching the bouquet of flowers.

This is peace. 

His mind floats out of his body when they drift apart, smiling gleefully at the perfection of it all. The words that had defined the last two years of his life meant something different than what he had thought. It is not when you first fall in love with someone, that builds up for years, it is rather the point in which you accept your fate, when you choose that path of love rather than denying it. Perhaps he had loved her this whole time, but it was the words that simply opened his eyes to the truth. The truth that the young woman opposite him adores him just as he adores her. And that is enough to invite her in for tea. 

It starts out as tea; that needs clarifying, because soon it morphs into teasing and flirting when Anne brushes crumbs from the edge of Gilbert's mouth. And she calls him Gil - he gives her chuckle for that. Her feet nudge his, under the cover of the darkness beneath the table. She giggles as his boots bonk into her ankles. 

‘I’m not engaged-’

‘I’d hope not.’ She replies with a glint in her eye, already knowing the truth. But he needs to tell her himself, in clear words straight from the heart. 

‘Let me finish Anne.’ He says, flooded with love. ‘Nor will I be, unless it is to you.’

They share in the heartbreaking quiet that slips between them. Anne had always wanted a tragic love story, and perhaps she had had it all along. 

‘I’m sorry, Gilbert, that I was confused before. I'm not anymore.’

‘Confused about what?’

‘Whether or not I loved you.’ She replies as if it were the only answer. It had been the only question she had entertained for days, and it weighed deep on her restless soul. 

‘And what is your conclusion?’

‘That I love you.’

‘Well,’ Gilbert says, leaning across the table to grasp her hands in his, ‘You are the sole keeper of my heart. The fond object of my affection and desire.’

‘How poetic.’ Anne teases. ‘You just say that to mock my simplicity. I must, in turn, remind you that brevity is to be admired in confessions such as these. Makes sure there is no room for miscommunication.’ 

‘I'm simply glad you have your pen back.’ Gilbert remarks. ‘And my words are an expression of my very poetic emotions.’

The rules don’t apply to them, their youth is a bubble of glee and warmth that shields them from reality. Anne finds herself yanking him up his stairs. The ones that lead to his bedroom. Anne wishes to inspect every inch of the space her once enemy, part friend, has occupied his whole life. So much can be learned from its three square meters. She trails her fingers over his father’s sweaters that occupy a special place in his wardrobe, his desk organised beyond her messy and artistic skills. The collections of shells, bird feathers, and sea glass that clutter her windowsill are in his room filled with medical textbooks and precious family photographs. 

Gilbert admires her as she floats about, his heart aching with each new piece of him she finds. 

‘How long?’ He asks, mostly just to end his doubt. 

‘Only since I kissed you the first time.’ She sets down the sole seashell in order to turn to face him directly. ‘You said the words, and… well I had just enough courage. If a girl likes a boy, what can’t she kiss him?’

‘It took me very much by surprise. Not in a bad way of course,’ He feels the need to clarify. 

‘Do you know how long I waited for you to realise you felt the same way?’ 

His voice cracks near the end, sending a flush to his cheeks and a hard angle to his clenched jaw. Anne brushes her fingers against it, smiling at the memories it stirs.

‘You know, all the girls find you devastatingly handsome when you do that.’

His gaze flicks to hers, a smirk overcoming an attempt at seriousness.

‘Oh really? Are you as affected?’ His voice has long lost its joking tone, he is all earnest and lost in the soft glide of Anne’s fingertips. 

‘I suppose I am. It's hard to find anyone else with such a splendid chin.’ 

She goes up on her toes to kiss his cheek, right along the line of his jaw. His hands settle on her waist. Through the layers of her dress and petticoat and shift, he can feel the curve of her waist as it swells into her hips. 

She slips out of his grip. ‘We must not dwell on the past. Although I may have been blinded by my  _ prejudice _ , the truth has been revealed at last, and we must look instead to the marvellous future.’ He can sense the smile on her lips even as she moves out of view to perch on the end of his bed. 

‘The future where I am stuck in Toronto while you are at Queens? That marvellous future?’

He comes to sit beside her, not quite used to being apart again. 

‘Oh Gilbert, but we will be the most dashing romantic scholars while we are parted. And our reunions will be all the more emotional. You must not forget that we have our entire life ahead of us. This is only the very start.’ 

They settle closer. Laying back and enjoying the silence after years of bickering. And kisses, after years of undiscovered feelings. They fall asleep in a tangle, clinging close together on the thin bed. Her head is on his heart. Its beat is her lullaby. 

His brother is home. 

Anne hears the buggy pull up and the wail of Delly’s lungs. Gilbert sirs beneath her, his eyes blink open to allow the evening night to register. Time catches up to him, and in an effort to prop himself up, pushes Anne to the floor. Her hand gripped to his shirt pulls him down on top of her. Knee between her thighs, hands beside her head. 

The front door slams. Their eyes widen. 

In a very unladylike scramble, Anne scoots out for under him as Gilbert, who, regaining control of the blood flowing back up to his brain, offers her a hand. There is no way to escape his room without Bash seeing or hearing them. Their only option, as they blush, is to separate themselves and act as the enemies everyone else knows them to be. 

‘Gilbert.’ Anne begins with a dignified bitterness. He eyes her, confused before she shoots daggers with her eyes. ‘Why must you always be so infuriating?’ Anne thumps her foot on the floor for added effect, having to cover her mouth to suppress laughter at Gilbert’s eye roll. 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about Anne.’ Gilbert continues with an elevated awareness of irony, grinning as Anne attempts to collect herself. 

‘I came to get a book and you have the gall to-’

‘What did he do this time?’ Bash interrupts, arriving in the doorway with Delphine cradled in his arms. He looks devilishly curious. ‘I’m sorry, don’t let me interrupt. Please continue insulting this moke for what I’m sure he deserves.’

Anne stutters for a second, not actually thinking they’d get this far. She was hoping she could storm out, but Sebastian is blocking her exit. 

‘Gilbert - well… Gilbert was being quite disrespectful with his criticism of my reading material.’ She can’t dare look at either of them. She hopes that Gilbert steps up and resolves the situation. 

‘It’s not my fault you wanted to read, um...’ He trails out. Gilbert feels like he has no bones left in his body. Bash begins to chuckle. Anne and Gilbert have to glance at each other for the situation to sink in.

‘You guys couldn’t last a day. And to think we all thought you were courting in secret.’

He erupts into a full belly laugh, shaking his head and eying them in turn. 

‘Well, I'll leave you two lovers to it. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.’ He pauses in the doorway. ‘Actually, scratch that, don't do anything Marilla Cuthbert wouldn't do.’ 

_ That should do it, _ he adds under his breath, leaving the door open as he leaves.

Anne and Gilbert are by themselves again, but with a very different energy in the air.

‘I never got to ask you why you brought flowers.’ Gilbert says as he drifts back over to her. 

‘Oh.’ Anne says. ‘I guess I got nervous. It calmed me down to stop and collect all the wildflowers in bloom. It wasn't necessarily for you per say, but you may have them if you wish.’

‘Why don't you keep them.’ 

Gilbert glances over to see Anne look crestfallen at the idea. 

‘You can press them,’ He reassures her. ‘They can be mementoes of this day.’

‘Oh, Gilbert.’ Anne exclaims, jumping into his arms. ‘I love that idea.’

And then a bit quieter: ‘May I stay for dinner?’

Gilbert tucks his head over Anne’s shoulder and notices that the sun is beginning to slide closer to the horizon. It won’t be dark for hours but they both have a hunger tugging in their stomachs. 

‘Of course. You can stay forever.’

‘I don’t think Marilla would much approve.’ Anne says as she breaks away and begins to tug him down the stairs after her, the smell of Mary’s famous stew beginning to drift from the kitchen. 

‘She’ll come around to the idea.’ Gilbert says with a grin, tumbling after Anne. ‘I believe she is quite fond of me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER  
> An epilogue of sorts.


	23. A conclusion, wherein Anne’s life is laid out before her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That all, folks!

**“Love should come first,**

**it should be the beginning of,**

**and the reason for everything.”**

**―** **Gerald May,** **Living in Love**

Death, as with distance, is not a barrier to love. In fact, Anne has learned during her sixteen years on earth, that it is the opposite. Despite being hours away in Toronto, Gilbert only loves her more because of it. His letters are filled with humour and cheek but always signed with  _ I love you and I miss you.  _ And, even if her parents are dead, she still loves them, and now she knows that they loved her just the same. 

She sits at her desk, in her new room, in a new city. She stares down her reflection in the mirror and she looks like her mother. The freckles and hair are a replica of what her father fell in love with, and what she has finally accepted to be nothing but perfect. Tears of joy she could not prevent pass over the freckles and fall off the side of her chin onto the hair that has slowly become a rich auburn. 

She signs her letter to Gilbert with a flourish and a heart, before kissing it and placing it in an envelope alongside pressed flowers. He is coming back to PEI in a month, but the days are only getting longer. 

And one day, under a poplar at her house of dreams, Anne returns to these letters. She caresses the swell of her stomach and the prospects of a fiery-haired infant to call her own. Gilbert returns to her side. They pass their days together, grasping at every moment after years apart. His years at medical school and her teaching had prevented them from marrying young. They had both wanted a taste of freedom and independence. But now, as she rests her head against his chest and his hands encircle her abdomen, it was all worth it. 

The breeze tickles the trees, and she remembers.

_ In Avonlea, hidden in the hay in the barn, during the gentle spring, his lips taste of honey. She clings to the very idea of him, of love and courtship and marriage. The last one is soft, she murmurs it in his ear. They are young, and the days drag on, but he has a ring prepared.  _

_ ‘E-n-g-a-g-e-m-e-n-t’ _

_ ‘You remembered the E.’ Anne teases.  _

_ ‘Of course, you're my Anne with an e. I vow I shall never forget the E.’ _

_ ‘Vows, you say.’ Anne adds with a smirk before she slips into a more serious tone. ‘I wouldn't mind if my name was simply Ann with no e as long as it was you who wrote it out in that scratchy penmanship of yours.’ _

_ Gilbert immediately rolls over and clings to her waist just long enough to trail kisses up her neck before she swats him away, warning him of her entire family separated only by a barn door. _

_ ‘Oh, so it’s okay when you kiss me, but not when I kiss you.’ His eyebrow cocks in its old familiar way and Anne can't help but breath out a chuckle.  _

_ Anne has been on edge ever since Gilbert came back for Easter. It's Gilbert's last year at UFT. Anne graduated from Queens a year ago and has taken over from Miss Stacey as the Avonlea school teacher. Their future blows swiftly in. She might have been scared if she hadn't been so happy as well.  _

_ She relishes in the prospect of a summer wedding.  _

She recalls the warmth and love when he hugged her as she sobbed over the loss of a most beloved father, taken too soon. He reassured her with tales of his voyage abroad, as he always does when she feels sad. She, in return, would entertain him with stories of her favourite student - Delphine. With the help of Rachel Lynde and frequent marches to the town hall, Delphine was the first child of colour to attend the Avonlea school. 

Anne thinks back to the hours between 2 and 4 on Saturdays when Gilbert visited as often as he could on his trips back. She spent her summers and holidays flaunting every convention of courtship. They snuck out at night to gaze at the stars. They kissed, pressed against a tree in the forest. She used to peel off his coat and push up his sleeves so she could admire the words that brought them together. She still does. Her chin tilts up to meet his, her lips scouring for skin to caress. The weight of his frame returns to her, and presses her down into the blanket and grass. 

_ Their wedding night might not have been as awkward as one might think. They had gone to the brink and back again several times before. Their courtship (the real one) was unconventional, to say the least, and their engagement swift, for good reason.  _

_ In the morning, bathed in sunlight, Gilbert dips his head to press a kiss atop her brow bone. Her eyes open to greet the new day, the flutter from the night before quickly returning in earnest.  _

_ ‘Morning.’ She mumbles as she presses closer into his side, pressing up against his thigh, grinning at the breath that leaves his lips when she rolls her hips slightly. _

_ ‘Good morning, Anne.’ Gilbert replies with a tempting smile.  _

_ They hardly move, they feel no need. They have a whole life in front of them. This is simply the first of many mornings together. But, eventually, they help each other dress, savouring the brushes of skin against skin. There seems no rush as Anne runs a hand over the freshly laid buttons. It’s Gilbert’s breath in her ear as the boning in her corset tightens around her middle. And now, for the first time, they face the day together.  _

She is reminded every morning and every night of the spring that changed her life. She doesn’t need knights in shining armour, or a dark and mysterious lover to sweep her off her feet. Gilbert had been in front of her all this time, waiting patiently for her to join him. The veil had long been lifted, and love crept up on her suddenly. 

In sickness and in health they stay by each other’s side. The summer she graduated from Queens, Anne rushed to Gilbert bedside as his fever rose. Weeks earlier, Ruby had wasted away from consumption and officially renounced her dibs on Gilbert in favour of marrying Moody on her deathbed. Six months prior, Matthew had suffered a fatal heart attack and Aunt Josephine had paid for the funeral. Now, her soulmate was next and Anne travelled twenty hours by train to Toronto to see him. His fever broke the last night she was there. Despite protests by the doctor, Anne stayed by his side the whole time. 

Soon they will cry over the loss of their first child, but it is followed by joy; six more will grow up in a happy home. They will be Anne and Gilbert, Gilbert and Anne. She will wear trousers far before it is socially acceptable, and they will live through the loss of their sons to war. Diana will name her daughter Cordelia in commemoration. Bash and Muriel, along with sweet Delphine, will visit them often in Charlottetown where the Blythes will be known for their parties filled with currant wine and the modern trends of dancing and jazz. Gilbert will look at his wife every day like he had since the day they met. Anne will advocate for the vote for women, all women, and she will not rest until she saves Ka’kwait. 

  
  


**_They will live happily ever after._ **

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank every one of you who left kudos, comments, or read even one word of the over 30,000 I have typed over the past months. I cannot believe that so many people would read what only actually focused on the concept of soulmates for the last five chapters. But, that is shirbert for you, only getting their shit together at the last minute.   
> I hope you enjoyed reading!   
> I will be going back through and editing some chapters as I have noticed some minor inconsistencies and grammar mistakes, but other than that, this fic is officially complete.   
> BTW watch out for my new modern AU because as soon as I end one fic I am compelled to start another.


End file.
